Pistol
by BlooAngels
Summary: She was a gunsmith's daughter, a soldier, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent...with a taste for payback. "Revenge is an art form where I come from," she told the strange Prince. He smiled dangerously. "Then we have something in common, Sergeant. Tell me, how serious are you with your...art?" Rated M for violence, coarse language, and implied sex. If it's Marvel, I don't own it. LokiXOC
1. Sergeant Sauer

Staff Sgt. Sauer staggered through the maintenance hatch and into a compartment she had never seen before, stopping long enough to secure the hatch door behind her. Big Ass might be weaponless at the moment, but she wasn't going to take any chances; he _was_ twice her size, after all. She took a moment to listen at the doorway, and hearing nothing presumed to have lost him. The man couldn't sneak up on a glass of water; he stomped absolutely everywhere.

A quick glance down at her uniform tunic told her he wouldn't have trouble tracking her; she was dripping blood, probably from her nose, which still throbbed. She put her hand to it and it came away red.

_Probably broken_, she thought, _but at least I gave as good as I got. Better, perhaps, since Big Ass will be walking with a limp for several days now_.

Sauer pushed herself away from the hatch after locking it, and further into the dimly lit compartment. It was a large ship, to be sure, and she wasn't exactly sure where she was, but she had a vague notion she was somewhere near the middle. Hopefully she could find a maintenance closet and some rags to catch the blood that still poured out her nose and down her face.

She was in luck: there was a closet handy. A quick jimmying of the lock produced the needed rags, and she quickly wiped up most of her face and the front of her tunic. The remainder she held to her face in a vain attempt to halt the flow. She tilted her head backwards and looked around; surely there would be another hatchway leading out of this compartment, wherever she was, and she could find the nearest sickbay.

"Up here," came a smooth voice, startling her. Sauer hadn't known anybody else was in the compartment, and she twitched in surprise. At least it wasn't Big Ass. He never sounded that good, not even when he was drunk.

She found a stairwell after a brief search and walked up.

There was a man standing inside a large glass compartment, a rather handsome one at that: tall, with a regal bearing, sharp blue eyes and long black hair, wearing what looked like black leather armor with gold trim. He cocked his head at her curiously.

"Staff Sgt. Sauer," he finally said, as if remembering her from a long ago class. "This is a surprise."

Her brows knit in confusion. "We have never met," she finally said. "I would remember you." Her eyes swept over the containment chamber. "And I think this place is _way_ over my pay grade. I probably shouldn't be in here, or even know it exists," she offered. "Who are you?" she finally asked, her words (unintentionally) muffled by the rags that covered her nose and mouth. To make matters worse, her adrenaline rush was wearing off, leaving her feeling shaky.

He noticed it at once. "Perhaps you should sit down," he said graciously, indicating a nearby bench with an open hand. "You look as if you have had some trouble."

"Thag you," she choked. Great. Now her nose was swelling up, and speech was becoming difficult. "I did. I pobably shouldn'g linger, dough. I need do fid sigbay ad ged dis dended," she pointed to her nose and the bloody rags that failed to stem the blood-tide, and tried tilting her head back again. She was rewarded by a gush of blood down the back of her throat, which made her gag and start coughing.

His brow wrinkled in something like concern. "Try tilting your head forward," he suggested. "Let the blood run out, and blow a little if you can. The air will encourage the clotting process." He scowled a little. "What happened?"

Sauer did tilt her head forward at his suggestion, and the blood ran eagerly out the front of her nose for a minute. Fortunately, she had grabbed extra rags from the maintenance closet, so this was not a problem for long. She finally looked up at the handsome stranger.

"Thag you, thad ith bedder," she fumbled through the rags and the blood. She looked at him again, curiously. "How do you gnow me, sir, when I do nod gnow you?"

"Forgive me," he said, putting a large right hand to his chest and inclining his head. "I am Prince Loki, son of Odin All-Father, God of Lies and Mischief, Prince of Asgard and Monarch Ascendant of Midgard. We have never met-you are correct-but we have a mutual acquaintance in Agent Clifford Barton of S.H.I.E.L.D. I know you as Staff Sgt. Sauer, keeper and smithy of the weapon's vault. He holds you in some regard." His head cocked to one side, curiously. "Sauer is a strange name for a girl," he finally said, frowning.

Sauer was surprised that he noticed. She keep her mouse-brown hair short-like Commander Hill's-and didn't fill out her uniform anywhere _near_ as well as Agent Romonov. Other men had mistaken her for a boy before, especially after seeing her shoot. It was only when she spoke that they realized she was female.

She shrugged. "Sauer id my fambly name, your Grace," she informed him. "I rarely use my furst nabe; it's a ship joke I woold radher avoid, if yoo don'd mid."

"Majesty," he corrected. At her confused look, he explained further. "'Your Grace' is reserved for religious figures, such as a priest or a bishop. 'Your Majesty' is the proper term of address for royalty."

"Ah, by apologies," she said, nodding, then added "your Majesty," as an afterthought.

"Thank you," he nodded regally, then peered through the glass at her busted-up face. "So, what happened?" he pressed.

Sauer winced at the memory. "I had a differenth ob opinion wid Staff Sgt. Big Ass-sorry, your Majesty-Biggess, ad we came to blows ober it," she explained, not wanting to go into too much detail. She hoped the white-wash would be enough of an explanation, but apparently it did not satisfy his curiosity.

An eyebrow went up. "A difference of...opinion? My dear, I think you lie," he scolded.

Her spine stiffened. "Withhoding information id nod a lie, your Majesty. Bud id seemed inappropriate to gib you dhe whole sdory when I hab yed do repord dhe madder to my superior officer," she explained.

"Ah, I see," he nodded. He walked a few paces and peered at her through the glass again. "This Staff Sgt. Biggess: is he about twice your size, built like a large ape, with red stubble for hair?"

She nodded. "The sabe."

"Arrogant, conceited, incompetent, and thinks he is god's gift to women?"

She nodded again. "Correct." It was her turn to tilt her head. "Habe you met hib?"

"I have not. As I said earlier, I know Agent Barton, and Agent Barton holds him in contempt. But you," he pointed at me, "_you_ he holds in high regard. I find that curious," he admitted, "especially considering the size ratio. Staff Sgt. Biggess would seem a more imposing warrior," he finished.

Sauer shrugged again. "Looks can be detheiving. I hab more hand-to-hand combat experience than Biggess, and since my fadder is a gunsmith, I am a better shot. I earned my stripth wid S.H.I.E.L.D.; Biggess inherited his."

"Ah, I see. Then I think I may deduce what happened." The prince scowled deeply. "Staff Sgt. Biggess suggested intercourse, and you refused him in no uncertain terms."

She nodded, but said nothing. The prince's eyes narrowed.

"And he tried to force the issue," he said darkly. His eyes swept over her bloody uniform, noticing at last the ruffled look and a few missing buttons.

"He did," she finally admitted. "Tried, thad is," she added when the prince's face darkened further, holding up a restraining hand. "I reliebed him ob his weapon and pard ob his manhood for good measure," she reassured the pacing monarch. "He will be walking wid a limp for de rest ob de day, I think," she added.

He gave a feral smile at that, seemingly amused. "Well done, then. It seems you deserve Agent Barton's regard after all."

Sauer shrugged. "I still owe him a lesson. Revenge is an art form where I come from," she added.

He smiled dangerously at that. "Then we have something in common, Sgt. Sauer. Tell me, how serious are you with your..._art_?"

She smiled a little. "Noding lethal, if dat is whad you mean. My perthonal betht involves high-quality explothives and expenthive pietheth of real ethtate or beloved property, but Biggess doeth not detherve my betht." Prince Loki's eyebrows went up at that declaration. "He needth to leard humility, ad the dead leard dothing," she explained.

"Ah, I see," the prince nodded again sagely. "Do you think you can teach the ass humility, then?"

"It ith not my first lesson, your Majesty," she shrugged. "I hab done dis before." She looked at him with some curiosity. "Where ith Midgard, if you don' mind my asking?"

"You are sitting on it," he said, raising his brows.

"Whad, the ship? Dat ith the _Iolaus_." He was _so_ not making any sense!

"No," he corrected loftily, "the _planet_."

Her eyes flew wide at the suggestion. "You wand to be King of dhe _World_? I thoughd that James Cameron had already claimed that title?" she ended the phrase more like a question, not thinking him serious.

"If there is a King James Cameron, then he is about to _lose_ his throne," Prince Loki said sternly. "I assure you I am quite serious, young lady. I shall usurp all who come before me."

"Thad will be difficult from inside a cell," she pointed out.

"A mere setback," he waved his hand grandly. "Think nothing of it." He looked at her curiously again. "Tell me: how did a smith's daughter come to join S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

She shrugged, embarrassed. "Dhere wath an altercation between some police officers and some terrorists outside our shop. The officers were outgunned and the terrorists threatened our cuthtomers, so I opened fire with a .50 caliber handgun. Dey surrendered soon after."

Prince Loki looked disappointed. "That is all? A little proficiency with a weapon bought you your post?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, apparently embarrassed. "No. Pithol-whipping Director Fury with the empty gun got me my post." She peeked at the Prince; he looked incredulous.

"You did not," he breathed, scandalized and pleased at the same time.

She nodded. "I did. Fury ran up behind me and tried to pull me out of the fray. I didn't know who he wad, and I wad out of ammunition, so I _struck_ him. Knocked him out cold-the .50 caliber id a heavy weapon-and then hit two more agenth who tried to back him up. I was tho worked up I couldn't realize the real fight was over. Agent Coulthon finally Tathered me from a distance," she explained. "When Fury woke up in the medigal ward, apparently the furst thing he said to Agent Coulthon was 'Tell me you _hired_ her,'" she finished, putting one hand over her eye and imitating a wilted Fury's voice.

Prince Loki threw his head back and laughed: laughed until a tear ran down a sculpted cheek. "I must thank you, Sgt. Sauer. That story was delightful," he finally gasped, nodding. He took another look at her swollen nose. "You really should get that looked at," he pointed to her face, shoulders still shaking with mirth.

"Thang you; I shall," she answered. The adrenaline rush and subsequent weakness had worn off, and she felt ready to stand. "If you will egcuse me, then, your Majesty, I mutht take my leave ob you. I have some revenge to plot, and you apparently need to try and conquer the _world_," she frowned at that, "although I don't understand the _desire, _and I live here," she finished.

"That story is much longer. Perhaps another time," he offered grandly.

She stood and bowed a little. "Another time then, your Majesty," she said, then made her way down the stairwell.

Loki watched her leave out another hatchway. He was still mulling over their conversation when another soft step behind him interrupted his thoughts. He smiled as he turned.

"Not many people can sneak up on me, Agent Romonov," he said smoothly.

TBC


	2. Chaos

X-rays found no broken bones in Sgt. Sauer's face (despite Big Ass's best efforts), but a mess of torn cartilage that would need some adjusting. The medical officer gave her a shot of painkiller and anti-inflammatory, and reset her nose as best as he could. He handed her an ice pack when he was done and picked up a pen.

"You should take a day off-duty for that," he said firmly, "especially if you handle any sensitive equipment. The painkiller will make complicated maneuvers impossible. Are you a pilot?"

"No, I work in the armory. I don't have duty again for another 12 hours or so."

"Good." He scribbled something on a pad. "I want you to take this to the pharmacy technician. Nothing to keep you out of work, understand," he had seen the look on her face. "This script is for three of our new soft-tissue rejuvenation packets. They'll match the sample I'm going to give you now. It's a new technology that should accelerate the healing process," he explained. "As for the other..."

"Other?"

He frowned. "Sergeant, I'm a military doctor. We haven't discussed what happened yet, but I can tell you I already know this was no slip-and-fall accident. You were hit, and by someone a hell of a lot bigger than you. Do NOT try to lie to me about this. I've had about all the testosterone-filled bullshit I can handle for one week. Who did this?" he asked sternly.

She grimaced, then winced when the movement hurt her nose. "Ahh, shit," she said, reaching for the ice pack again, and sighed. "Doc, I wasn't gonna offer you any BS. I just don't want to seem like..."

"A malingerer, I know." He held up a hand. "I've heard it for years. Some thick-headed jackass with extra stripes takes it on himself to 'toughen up' the newbies by beating them black and blue, and they put up with it because they don't want to be seen as a crybaby. However, there's a _reason_ we have three gymnasiums on board. That is where hand to hand combat is practiced. Injuries happen during practice. This," he pointed to my face, "did _not_ happen during practice. _This_ was assault and battery, and that is not tolerated."

She frowned. "Does doctor-patient confidentiality still exist here?" she finally asked.

Doc's face clouded. "Of course."

"This wasn't simple assault."

His face became stony. "Go on," he finally said,

Sergeant Sauer started from the beginning of Staff Sergeant Biggess's harassment when she got on board, and finished with the attempted sexual assault that had finished with her visit to Sickbay 2. Doc's frown only got deeper as she talked, but oddly, he didn't seem surprised.

"Have you reported any of this to your superior officer?"

"Numerous times. He steadfastly ignores me and brushes off my complaints."

"Talked to Fury yet?"

"He's a busy man."

"I'll take that as a 'No'." Doc sighed. "Sgt. Sauer, I'll be quite frank with you. You aren't the first female recruit to visit my office with this complaint. You certainly aren't his first SA victim, either."

She frowned. "Attempted, or completed?"

"Both. Usually the latter. He always walks. Apparently Biggess is connected to the Council of Regents. How...I don't know. At any rate his last three victims were bullied into silence and left S.H.I.E.L.D. I don't know how much Fury knows, or if he knows anything at all. He normally has bigger fish to fry, and trusts his junior officers to handle pricks like Big Ass. Yes, I know his real name," he sighed and rubbed his temples. "And I want his damned big ass off this ship, preferably in a dank prison cell in Southeast Asia. I can make a report, and I will, but only you can press charges."

"Which will go to our immediate commanding officer, and will subsequently be ignored," she pointed out.

"Did you hit him back?" Doc smiled. "I saw your knuckles, you know."

"Whipped him like a 10 year old caught stealing candy in a Big Lots, and took away his gun. Then I _punted_," she added, "just to make the point."

Doc smiled. "Good girl. He'll complain-he _is_ a malingerer-and the _joint_ complaints will make it to Fury's desk. He'll have to hear both sides, and I'm confident Fury will side with you. Complicated, but I'm sure it will work. Here," he handed her a fresh tunic, "get changed, and put that tunic in an evidence bag. Then we have some forms to fill out."

Sgt Sauer did change her tunic, and the bloody one was promptly stored in an evidence locker, but they never got to the paperwork for the formal complaint.

Loki's strike team hit the helicarrier first, and all hell broke loose instead.

/

The ship was listing oddly, as if the pilots had put it into some sort of steep banking maneuver, but Sauer could tell it wasn't deliberate. The claxon of the alarm and the general panicked look of various crewmembers told her that. She ran towards her duty station; general quarters had been sounded, and her 'break' was officially over.

Doc had shoved a handful of the rejuvenation packets into her hands with an admonition to 'be careful and not get killed'. She shoved them into the lining of the jacket she had snagged from a closet and ran. The armory that was her duty station was just on the other side of the upcoming hangar...

In theory.

Something roared (roared?) underneath the deck she staggered against, and the ship shivered and moaned. Lights flickered and popped, and Sauer could hear power stations snapping. Emergency lights strained, and she swore she heard gunfire. What the hell?

Sauer reached the hangar, coming out on one of the upper gangplanks. She therefore had a birds-eye view of the Hulk tearing through a bulkhead, tackled by a blond man in medieval armor. _He_ was built like a linebacker.

Sauer knew who the Hulk was. Hell, anybody who didn't have their head buried in the sand for the past 10 years knew who the Hulk was. What was amazing was that she had no idea that he was on board. Ship gossip was usually better than that. As for the blond linebacker...she had no idea. She caught a glimpse of Agent Romonov through the hole the Hulk had left in the bulkhead, and then an arm snaked its way around her throat, pulling her back into the corridor above the catwalk.

"Miss me?" Biggess snarled.

_Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin_...the SING mantra had been drilled into her since puberty, and she fell back onto it now, delivering precise blows with her elbow, boots, head, and fist. Biggess grunted but tightened the sleeper hold on her neck, and she went for a pinky finger instead, grabbing it and twisting it 90 degrees the wrong way before she could pass out. It worked, and she staggered back towards the hanger bay catwalk.

"General quarters, _asshole_," she gasped out, lurching as she ran, "the ship is under attack. Save the testosterone for something useful."

He got his hands on her again, this time by the collar of her jacket. "Yeah, Little Tit, we're all gonna die." He slammed her against the nearest pipe and her head swam. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her to the catwalk deck. "I'm goin' out with a _bang_, sweetheart," he growled, and reached for her belt.

_Shit_, she thought, then remembered the bulge at her hip was _his_ gun. "You wanna go out with a bang, Big Ass?" She yanked the weapon out of her pants liner and thumbed off the safety. "My pleasure."

Biggess ducked just in time, and her first shot barely missed his temple. The bullet _whanged_ around the hangar deck, unnoticed by the personnel fleeing the Hulk's wrath. Her second and third bullets also missed Biggess-for some reason she just couldn't aim properly-and struck one of the support cables just to the right of his head. Then the gun jammed. Biggess was notorious for his poor gun maintenance.

He was on her again a second later. "You aren't stopping this, Little Tit," he growled, hauling her up by her tunic again. "And you're never gonna tell anybody what I did," he snarled as he started to drag her back into the corridor, "so just shut up and bend over," he said, shoving her back onto the floor.

Her feet had not quite left the catwalk when the support gave way with a whip-_**swang**_, sagging in towards the hangar bay and the fight between the Hulk and the linebacker-in-armor. Biggess' surprised look would have been comical, if it had not been followed by him tumbling backwards and falling over the railing. Sauer heard a short yell, then nothing more from Biggess. Gasping, she pulled herself to the still-supported side of the catwalk and looked down.

The hangar was in ruins: a jet sat crumpled with a wing torn off and a jeep, smashed, burned where it had been kicked aside. The Hulk and the linebacker were still trading blows, only now the linebacker seemed to be using a sledgehammer. Biggess? She looked around, and her hand flew to her mouth.

Biggess was dead: impaled on a cantilevered missile on the torn jet's remaining wing. He looked surprised as hell.

Somehow, Sauer couldn't hear anything but the oddest roaring in her ears. It was like when her father had held a large seashell to her ear that time they had all gone to the ocean when she was 10.

The catwalk pitched beneath her, snapping her back to reality. Another support cable had given way, and Sauer grabbed instinctively for the handrail as she pitched forward. Cables gave way with a snap-_spring_, and she found herself dangling by her hands, two stories above the ruined, smoking jet and Biggess' body. _Shit_...

She scrambled for another hand-hold, tried to swing her leg up for more traction on the handrail, but another support gave way and the catwalk sagged even further. Smoke from the burning vehicles blurred her eyesight, and her sweaty palms slipped on the handrail. Sauer screamed to the person who appeared at the doorway-she couldn't tell who it was, but knew the look he gave her wasn't good.

The catwalk snapped again, and she lost her grip, screaming as she fell...

_**THUD**_...she hit something softer than metal and concrete, a lot sooner than she should have. Green...she was surrounded by green leather...green?

The Hulk had caught her. She looked up into the hugest green eyes she had ever seen. He had seen her fall and had caught her, almost instinctively. Their eyes locked for a minute as he held her in cupped hands, and he pulled her closer for a better look. She reached for a huge, green cheek.

"Th...thank you," she gulped and felt stupid tears welling up. Now was not the time! She sniffled and wiped them away, and her hand came back smeared red again. "Thank you, Hulk," she whispered. "I'm ok. Put me down?"

He seemed to change-starting to shrink a little. "**Careful, little mouse**," he rumbled, setting her down on the runway.

She clung to his hand, and he had to hunch over a little. "Thank you," she panted again, trying to calm him a little. "My hero," she smiled through tears, "just in time," she choked, and threw her arms around a massive neck. "Thank you," she croaked again.

He _was_ shrinking, her hold on his neck was getting easier, and she spared a glance over the massive green shoulder. The linebacker-guy was there, eyeing the pair of them warily and picking his way through rubble, and beyond that...her eyes widened in horror...

A hoverjet settled into view outside the viewport, its cannons trained on their position... "NO!" she screamed, holding a hand out to the pilot, praying he would see her...

"_Target acquired," the pilot radioed to Fury._

"_Acknowledged. Get his attention," snapped the order from the bridge._

_The hoverjet opened fire on the Hulk._

Tracer rounds burned through the air, the first ones shattering the plexiglass shielding and the following strafing their entire position. The pilot didn't seem to realize that there were other people in the hangar bay. Either that, or he had orders to ignore anything but his primary target.

Sauer screamed and curled up into the Hulk's massive hand again, cringing as he roared in pain and confusion, inflating to his previous size. Bullets bounced off his broad back and pinged around the hangar, and Sauer found herself flung again as the Hulk turned to face his new enemy.

"_Target angry...__**TARGET ANGRY!"**_

Two bounds later the Hulk landed on the spinning hoverjet, and proceeded to rip it apart.

Sauer didn't see that; the Hulk had thrown away his little mouse. She careened through the air only to be caught again, this time by the linebacker-armor guy. The wind left her lungs with a _whoosh_.

"Are you well?" His voice was deep enough.

She nodded, still gaining her wind. "Th...thank you," she finally gasped. "Yes."

He glanced down at her face, again smeared with blood. "You are injured. You should seek out a healer, lad," he rumbled, "and stay out of the way this time. Battles like these are not meant for youths."

Ok, _now_ she was pissed. "I've been fighting since I was a youth, thank you," she snapped. "And it isn't 'lad'; I'm a woman."

His eyes widened just a bit. "My apologies, milady," he said, placing a hand on his chest and inclining his head. "I am Thor, of Asgard."

"Sgt. Sauer, keeper of arms and armor, of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Midgard," she replied. What the hell, may as well play along with the formalities. "Are you related to the prisoner, Prince Loki?"

"Indeed. He is my foster-brother. This cataclysm is his doing."

Sauer's heart sank. "And whose side are you on?" she couldn't keep the tremble out of her voice: not completely. It had been a very bad day.

He heard it at once, and a massive bronzed hand steadied her shoulder. "Do not fear _me_, Lady Sauer. I am here to protect this realm and all who would despoil it. But my brother, I fear, has descended into madness. If you know where he is, you will do well to avoid him." Something boomed a large way off, and the blond giant glanced around him. "I fear my brother seeks his freedom. Get thee to safety, Lady Sauer. I must away."

And suddenly he was gone.

TBC


	3. Orders

Metal scraped against metal as the ship tilted again, and Sauer watched in sick horror as the shattered quinjet-with Biggess still attached-slipped free from its moorings and slid out the hole in the ship. It had to be 30,000 feet straight down, and whether they were over water or air she did not know. It wouldn't matter anyway.

She shivered. _Goodbye, Big Ass_, she thought, and (shakily) pulled herself away from the bulkhead.

Sauer still had a duty station to find. Nobody had sounded 'abandon ship' yet, so she had to assume it would continue to fly. She started picking her way through corridors, altering her route when she hit larger pieces of debris. The Hulk had created quite an obstacle course in his rage.

Sauer finally found a clean passageway heading in the right direction and started jogging. Battle sounds faded as they got further and further behind her. This part of the ship seemed oddly uninhabited-at least she did not see any other personnel. She rounded a corner-

_**WHAM**_

-and ran smack into Agent Barton. He grabbed her none too gently by the arms.

"Sauer," he said almost distantly, peering at her face and releasing the iron grip he had on her arms. His eyes looked odd, as if they were the wrong color.

"Agent Barton," she gasped in surprise, then noticed the odd look on his face and the strange color in his eyes. "What happened?"

"The ship is under attack," he said flatly, mechanically. "You should be at your duty station," he continued in that mechanical voice. "You have orders."

She nodded. "I know. I keep getting sidetracked." She peered again at the odd, distracted look on his face. "Are you all right?"

His face was a mask, but he nodded. "I am. I have orders..."

Agent Barton didn't usually operate aboard the helicarrier. He was a top notch spy and assassin, Sauer knew. It was odd for him to be in the bowels of the ship like this.

"What orders?" she pressed.

"I have to find Agent Romonov," he said flatly. "I have orders, Sauer," he repeated again.

Barton never called her 'Sauer'. Since they had met that day in the street he had always called her 'Annie', after Annie Oakley. There must be some serious shit going down for him to refer to her with such formality. Was he in shock? She grabbed his muscled arm again. "Barton," she said, trying to get his attention. It didn't work, he kept moving. "_Hawkeye_," she hissed stronger, "_look_ at me."

He turned those weird eyes on her again, and while he recognized her, she saw that he didn't seem to notice her injured face. _Weird._ She slapped him in the arm. "Are you in shock? Snap out of it, Barton!"

He grabbed her by the arms again and shoved her up against the nearest bulkhead, every move calculated and firm. "I have orders," he said in that mechanical voice again. "My orders don't include you. I have to find Agent Romonov. Get to your duty station," he finished flatly.

_This must be some serious shit_, she decided. "I saw Agent Romonov near Hangar Bay 2," she offered. "Mind the damage; the Hangar Bay is open to the sky."

He nodded. "Get to your duty station," he said again, robot-like, and disappeared.

"Men," Sauer shook her head and started moving again. She doubted she would ever understand them.

The corridor was starting to look familiar. Was she getting close? She could hear voices. There was a distinctive _whump_ of large-arms fire and an odd sizzling odor. It sounded like one of the newer tech pieces was in use, and not in the Testing Range, either. Sauer ducked through the nearest hatch...

She was back in the containment room, but Prince Loki was gone. Hell, the _cell_ was gone, and Agent Coulson sat on the floor, one of the new large energy rifles underneath his arm. He was bleeding out of his chest and back, and blood bubbled up from his mouth and nose. She ran for the nearest intercom system.

"MEDICAL EMERGENCY IN THE CONTAINMENT DECK," she bellowed, and then ran back to where Coulson lay and tried to cradle his head.

"Agent Coulson? AGENT COULSON," she shouted, then heard the rattle from his chest. The man seemed to be drowning in his own blood. She ripped his shirt open even as his eyes dragged open. He smiled.

"Pistol," he said softly, his own pet name for her. Then his face wrinkled. "You're a mess."

_So much blood._ She remembered the rejuvenation packets in her pocket and pulled them out with fumbling hands. "Pot," she looked at him knowingly, then pointed at herself, "kettle. Hold still," she admonished, ripping open the first unit and applying the cream to her fingers. It seemed to smoke oddly. Was she really supposed to shove that up her nose? She wasn't using it on herself now, though. She shoved the mess into the hole in his chest, praying she could find whatever was bleeding and stop it.

His eyes widened and he gasped in pain. "Too late, Pistol," he gasped. "Get the boss."

"I'm here." _Fury at last!_ "Stay awake. Eyes on me," he commanded sternly.

"Sorry, Boss. I'm off the clock," Coulson said softly.

Fury shook his head. "Not an option."

Coulson glanced up at Sauer. "Save it, Pistol. Looks like you need it more..."

"Be quiet," she snapped. She had already applied three R-packs and reached for a fourth. "Gimme the power pack out of that gun," she snapped at Fury. "It feels like there's a bleeder near his heart. I gotta cauterize it."

"Stay with me, Coulson," Fury commanded, tearing into the energy rifle. He glanced at Coulson's paling face. "This has been fired."

Coulson grinned weakly, dreamily. "Yeah. Works great." He looked at Sauer's face again, and a bloody hand traced her nose. "Who?"

"Big Ass," she answered. She hoped the information would piss him off enough to keep him awake. It seemed to work for a moment; his face tensed.

"Worthless cur," he murmured. "Where?" He looked up at her again as she shoved fingers into his chest again. It didn't seem to hurt him anymore-not a good sign.

"Dead," she replied. "Off the ship."

"Good." His eyes turned back to Fury. "It's ok, boss. It was never gonna work anyway. They needed..."

He gasped. Fury had handed Sauer the stripped-down power pack from the energy rifle. A live wire sparked out of one end; she shoved it into the spot where her fingers found a fountain, ignoring the burning pain in her hand and concentrating on closing the breach. _Deal something besides death_, she prayed. The energy rifle was powered by energy from the Tesseract, and _that_ thing seemed alive. Maybe the energy itself could take a direction. It couldn't hurt.

Coulson's eyes filled with blue fire, and he gasped. "Pistol!"

She shoved the last R-pack into his chest. "_Live_, dammit," she hissed, and then Fury pulled her away. The real medical team had shown up. Finally.

Fury pushed Sauer, shaking, onto the same bench she had occupied during her conversation with Loki. The ship seemed to have stabilized, and she watched numbly as the med techs took over with Coulson.

Fury was impassive. He reached for his intercom.

"Coulson is down," he announced. There was a pause.

"_Sir, I have a medical team en route to your position. Wait for their..."_ Commander Hill started to answer, but Fury cut her off.

"They're here. They just called it," Fury said impassively.

Sauer looked at her commander oddly. The medical team was still working on Coulson. They hadn't called a Code Blue. She opened her mouth...

And was silenced by the look on his face. He shut off his comlink. "Staff Sgt. Sauer, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"With me."

/

Fury led her to his office, where he pointed to a chair opposite his desk. She sat down, shaking; Coulson's blood still covered her hands. Fury saw it and handed her a packet of steri-wipes, then dug a cold-pack out of the first aid kit on his wall.

"Your face," he said in his brisk manner, "talk."

"Sergeant Biggess attacked me, sir, after I left my regular duty station this afternoon."

"Don't you work in Armory 1?"

She nodded, pressing the cold pack to the bridge of her nose. "I do."

"That corridor is heavily populated. Didn't anybody notice?"

"We weren't in the regular corridor, sir. Sergeant Biggess said I was needed in R&D for some work on one of the new prototypes. We were taking a shortcut when he turned on me."

"He give a reason?"

"He wanted a quickie. I told him to go fuck himself."

Fury seemed surprised at that. He didn't say anything, but his one good eyebrow went waaaaaaaaaaaay up, and he looked at her a full minute before speaking again.

"That would put you roughly near the center of the ship, Sauer. You told Coulson that Biggess was, and I quote, "Dead" and "Off the ship". Care to explain that?"

She went into detail then; Fury was a stickler for them. Sauer told him everything: the fight, her encounter with Loki, the conversation with Doc in Sickbay 2, and the events after the sounding of general quarters, ending with Biggess' death and her rescue by the Hulk.

"I ran into Agent Barton just before I found Agent Coulson, sir," she finished. "I don't know if he is in good health, either. He seemed...off somehow...like he was shell-shocked or something."

"Agent Barton has been compromised, and is not currently under S.H.I.E.L.D. control," Fury told her. "You were lucky to escape him alive. Did he tell you where he was going?"

She nodded, suddenly worried. "He said he had orders: he had to find Agent Romonov."

Fury closed his eye and looked sick. "Damn." He seemed to think for a minute. "I'll be frank with you, Sgt. Sauer: I have a situation that needs a gunsmith, and that gunsmith needs to keep her mouth shut. Do you understand the meaning of _**classified**_?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Because everything about Agent Coulson's 'death' is just that: _**classified**_. You will speak to absolutely no-one other than me about the things you have seen this afternoon. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

"Sir?"

"Sergeant?"

"What if I am asked about Sergeant Biggess or my...condition?"

Fury scowled. "Your injuries are combat related. Nothing more. Direct questions about Biggess' death will be directed to me, and only to me. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." He nodded. "You are dismissed to your quarters: shower, change, eat something. Take another anti-inflammatory. Then report to R&D #5 for duty on the double. Are we clear?"

"Yes,sir."

"Dismissed."


	4. Chaff

Sauer let the water run long after it had ceased to run red. She didn't know if she would ever really be clean; there had been too much blood. A sharp vision of Biggess' impaled body crossed her mind, and she shuddered. Blood, blood everywhere...but then, what did she expect? It wasn't like she worked for the Peace Corps.

She dried and dressed quickly, ran a comb through her short hair, and grabbed an energy bar out of her locker. She frowned, looking at the small package, and grabbed the rest of the box, shoving them in her pockets before leaving for R&D #5. She would swing by the mess hall on her way there and grab some sandwiches; whoever she was working with was bound to be hungry.

/

Tony Stark _was_ hungry. In fact, he was nearly starving, having not eaten for almost a full day. He was trying to ignore the general complaints of his stomach, though: he had the Mach 6 to repair after that tussle in the forest with Thor. He scowled deep as he tried to beat out the dents to the exoskeleton. None of his flight stabilizers seemed affected, but the same couldn't be said of his .50mm Gygrojet rockets: the barrels had been crushed. Stark thought himself fortunate the munitions hadn't gone off when Thor started squeezing. His arm could have been blown off.

"Anything I can do to help, Stark?" Captain Rogers offered, along with a cup of coffee. It was bitter swill, but it had caffeine in it. Stark gulped it and wished for bourbon.

"Not unless you can beat the dents out of this set of barrels with your shield," he replied tersely. "Point Break did a number on my armor."

"Somebody call for a gunsmith?" The voice came from the doorway, and Stark glanced up. The kid looked way too young to be working for S.H.I.E.L.D., but he _was_ carrying food...

"A gunsmith: no. Food: yes. Just put it on the counter over there, kid," Stark motioned with his head to the counter in question. "I'll get to it soon enough."

"It's 'Sergeant', not 'kid'," the youth said, scowling. He had obviously seen some action during the ship's attack; his face was black and blue. At least he'd been able to get cleaned up before entering the working area. Stark didn't know if he would have been able to handle the smell otherwise. Something was odd about this kid...something Tony Stark couldn't quite put his finger on... "Sergeant Sauer at your service, Mr. Stark, courtesy of Director Fury," he finished. The kid glanced down at the piece of exoskeleton Stark was pounding on. "That part of the MARK 5?"

"MARK 6," Stark corrected automatically, then stopped himself. "How do you know about..."

"We have some _wonderful_ hackers in cybernetics," Sauer said lazily, peering at a spare piece of his exoskeleton. "I believe they took the firewall around your J.A.R.V.I.S. as a personal challenge." The lad frowned and looked thoughtful. "Either that or there was some betting going on while they were drunk. Engineers and computer geeks shouldn't drink that much, in my opinion. They get into too much trouble," he opinioned.

"Now wait just a damned minute!" Stark exploded, snatching a piece of the exoskeleton out of Sauer's questioning grip. "That's blasphemy!"

"My lab, my rules," Sauer shrugged. "J.A.R.V.I.S., are you with us today?" he spoke into the air, and something inside Stark went _pop_.

"Look, kid," he growled, grabbing the boy's arm and hauling him around so he could look him in the face. "I don't care what kind of rank you hold on this ship or with S.H.I.E.L.D.: you stay the hell out of my system. I work on my own tech, I do my own repairs, and..." something was odd about the arm he was holding. There was _plenty_ of muscle, but the shape...and the scent... "My God, you're a woman!"

"No shit, Sherlock. It only took you five minutes to notice. You're a _genius_, all right," Sauer snapped. "It might explain why you haven't managed to _procreate _yet, though you're a billionaire and over 4 decades old!"

Stark went white.

"Nah, it's his lack of social skills," Captain Rogers lobbed in from the shadow he had taken refuge in. "He's egotistical, opinionated, and doesn't play well with others."

"Hey!"

Sauer squinted at the shadowed portion of the lab. "Lights up 100%," she ordered, and her eyes went wide at the red, white, and blue figure sprawled across three chairs. "Captain Rogers!" she exclaimed, snapping to attention and saluting.

"As you were, Sergeant," Rogers returned the salute and stood up. "I heard the name Sour...as in sweet and, or as in _SIG_ Sauer, the gun manufacturer?"

She nodded. "The latter, sir. There are branches of the family all over the world, and we all do pretty much the same thing," she spared a glance at Tony Stark, "just not on as big a scale as some people."

"Ok, I'm an ass," Stark acquiesced, holding up his hands. "I apologize."

Sauer turned to Captain Rogers. "Should I get that in writing, sir?"

"Not a bad idea," he murmured.

"Can we focus, please?" Stark snapped. "We've got some major drama coming, courtesy of Reindeer Games..."

"Who?"

"Prince Loki, of Asgard, currently trying to take over the world with an extra-terrestrial army," Captain Rogers supplied.

"Oh, him. Nice manners, fancy cage. That would explain the fancy cage, I suppose..." Sauer mused, moving across the room to an access panel.

"And I've got to get my suit into shape before the shit hits the fan." Stark finished.

Sauer glanced at the crumpled arm-guard. "Is that a _hand print_?"

"Thor and I had a tussle," Stark understated, spreading his hands.

Captain Rogers snorted.

Sauer rolled her eyes. "Testosterone poisoning. Why is it alpha males can't get along until they rub each others' faces in the dirt?" She glanced at the crumpled armor. "So, you need some smithy tools," she declared, punching a code into the access panel. "Y'got any problems with the weapons or flight systems?"

Stark was looking at her oddly. "I need a barrel exoskeleton for some .50 mm Gyrojet rockets, I should check the electrical system, and I need to correct some welds, but other than that the rest of it is fine."

"Ok," she punched in more codes and gave him a _look_. "Say 'please'."

Stark raised his eyebrows. _What the hell_, he thought. "Please."

Sauer hit the 'enter' button, and the walls retracted into the ceiling, revealing **_gunsandtoolsandgunsandtoolsa ndgunsandtoolsandgunsandtool sandgunsandtools..._**

Both men started to _whine_.

"No drooling, boys," Sauer said crisply. She grabbed a hammer larger than the one Stark had been using on his exoskeleton and handed it to the man. "Size matters, Stark. Try this on your exoskeleton. The handle is pink for a _reason_. I expect it back. Acetylene torch is _here_, safety goggles are _here_, and I have a mini-forge if necessary, but I doubt we'll have the time. Captain Rogers?"

"Yes, Sergeant?"

She grabbed several handguns and handed them over. "SIG P226's, fires 9mm rounds. I've modified the magazines so they can carry extra. Do you prefer a right or left-handed holster?"

"Both."

She nodded and opened a drawer. "Take your pick, sir."

He pulled out the ones he wanted and shut the drawer. "Ammunition?"

"Two drawers down on the left. I keep extra magazines pre-loaded." She reached for something that looked similar to the energy rifle he had confronted Fury with earlier.

"What's that?"

"That is classified, but thanks to the miracle of interchangeable parts: parts is parts." She looked up at where Stark was making headway on the dents in his armor. "How many chambers do you need for those Gyrojet rockets?" she shouted.

"I usually work with nine," he grunted, "but the suit will accept a six-pack."

She nodded. "Captain, can I get your help in field-stripping this? Some of the screws tend to stick," she explained, removing the power pack. "Stark, you need a recharge?"

He glanced up at the power pack she held. "Nah, Thor zapped me on the ground. I should be good for the next 10 years or so." He glanced up to the table where Captain Rogers and Sgt. Sauer bent over the energy cannon. "Did you say Reindeer Games had 'nice manners'?"

She shrugged. "He thought I was amusing, not a threat. No need for bluster, I guess." She held up a square metallic piece. "See if this will work for your G-jets, will you?"

It did. "Thanks," Stark murmured. He had finished pounding out the dents, and went immediately to work installing the new chambers for the mini-rockets. "I need to plug it into a diagnostic system to check for other damage."

"Allow me," Sauer offered. She turned her face to the ceiling. "J.A.R.V.I.S., to identify, scan code TM82011GS57071SS. Consider this an invitation; welcome to my parlor."

"Acknowledged," J.A.R.V.I.S. answered, "connection complete. Good afternoon, Sergeant Sauer. How is work coming on the MARK 6?"

"Your boss needs to run some diagnostics. Are you fully integrated into my system?"

"Affirmative."

"Great. Nice to know _some people_," she glared at Stark, "can play well with others."

Stark was giving her a _look_. "J.A.R.V.I.S., how long have you and Sgt. Sauer been acquainted?" he said suspiciously.

"The Sergeant left me a cookie three months ago, sir," the AI volunteered. "It was directly linked to her personnel file for future reference."

"Why am I only hearing about this now?" Stark was looking murderous again.

"It was part of a low level hacker attack, sir. You clearly directed me to inform you only of serious attacks or breaches of the security system."

Stark turned on Sgt. Sauer. "So, you hacked into my private system three months ago..."

"No, the guys in cybernetics did that. I'm a smith, not a hacker," she put her hands up in mock surrender.

"And left some sort of identity program on J.A.R.V.I.S..."

"Just so we could get acquainted! I wanted to study the firepower designs on the MARK 6, but J.A.R.V.I.S. wouldn't let me..."

Stark scowled again. "J.A.R.V.I.S., why didn't you clear that cookie with all the other _thousands_ you encounter in a day?" He snapped, frustrated.

"It was a Thin Mint, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S replied.

"What?" Stark said, taken aback.

"The code is a variation of the bar code off a box of Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies," Sauer explained. "'TM' for Thin Mint, 'GS' for Girl Scout, 'SS' for my initials, and the numbers are the bar code," she explained. "_Everybody_ loves Thin Mints."

"They are quite delicious, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S volunteered.

"Hey, wait a minute," Captain Rogers interjected. "Since when do Girl Scout cookies come in flavors besides vanilla and chocolate?"

Sgt. Sauer gave him a _look_. "Since the 1950's, and...oh, right." She turned to another wall panel and gave it a _whack_ with her fist. It popped open and she pulled out a rectangular green box, which she tossed to the Captain. "Be my guest, sir."

He caught them easily. "Thanks," he said, tearing into them. "Say, these _are_ good."

"How did you sneak those on board?" Stark asked, peering into the cache and pulling out a box of Samoas.

Sauer flashed a three finger salute. "_Usquequaque Exsisto Paratus_. I came prepared, duh." She snatched the Samoas out of his hand and replaced them with a sandwich. "No dessert until after dinner, Mr. Stark."

"Damn, you're strict. Almost as bad as Pepper," he groused, shoving half a sandwich into his mouth. "I don't suppose you have any bourbon to go with this?"

She shook her head. "Non-coms aren't allowed liquor. You'll have to break into Fury's office for that."

Captain Rogers finished a sleeve of cookies and reached for a sandwich. He had stuffed half of it into his mouth when he pointed to a large revolver hanging on Sauer's wall. "Whff ish ffa?" he muffled around the sandwich.

"I thought old men knew not to talk with their mouths full," Stark quipped.

Sauer rolled her eyes at the both of them and walked over to the gun display. "_This_," she said, pulling the large revolver down from the wall, "is a Smith and Wesson X-frame Model 500, .50 caliber revolver. Overall length is 15 inches, barrel length 8-3/8 inches, cylinder almost 2 inches diameter. Holds five charges, each ½ inch in diameter, and the .50 caliber cartridges are almost 2 inches long. Fully loaded, it weighs about 5 lbs, and can take down a charging bear. Kicks like a mule, too."

"Not something I would want to stick in my belt, then."

"Probably not, sir."

"So, why do you have a Hulk-busting gun on your wall?" Stark motioned to the gun that Captain Rogers now hefted.

She shrugged. "It was a Christmas present."

"You can shoot this thing?" Rogers asked incredulously.

"Yes, she can," Fury said from the doorway. "If you three are done with your tea and cookies, we need to talk in the conference room. Sauer, tidy up and you're dismissed to your quarters."

She stiffened. "Yes, sir." She reclaimed the large revolver from Captain Rogers and started securing it and other miscellaneous materials. He caught her arm after Fury ducked out.

"What happened?" he said quietly, giving her swollen nose a knowing look.

Her face went blank for just a minute. "Somebody hit me," she finally said, shrugging. "It isn't important now. There's a threat to the planet, remember?"

Stark looked over his shoulder at the empty doorframe. "Did Fury?" he started, his voice laced with venom, but she shook her head.

"No, not Fury. He's handling it; I can't discuss it now, ok? You guys have a planet to save. Just try to remember who is on whose side, alright?"

"Alright." Stark gave her face a piercing look. "Take care of yourself, kid. Sorry I thought you were a boy when you walked in."

She shrugged. "It's a common mistake. Don't worry about it."

TBC


	5. Driven Away

_One week later..._

"Have a seat, Sgt. Sauer," Fury motioned to a chair in his office. The ship was still under repair, now that the battle was over, but Sauer had spent nearly the entire time confined to her quarters. "We need to talk."

"What is this about, sir?"

"It took me a while, but I finally found some footage of your conversation with our...guest...Prince Loki." Fury sounded tired, but stern all the same.

"Yes, and?"

"And you seem to have forgotten to tell me _exactly_ what that conversation was about, Sergeant. I had to have AudioTech work on the tape to pick up the dialogue, before we found _this_:" he pressed a button. A jerky video began to play.

_Sauer shrugged. "I still owe him a lesson, *_SPARK*_. Revenge is an art form where I come from," *_SPARK*_._

_He smiled dangerously at that. "Then we have something in common, Sgt. Sauer. Tell me, how serious are you with your...art?"_

_She smiled a little. "*_SPARK*SPARK*_. My perthonal betht involves high-quality explothives and expenthive pietheth of real ethtate or *_SPARK*_property, but Biggess doeth not detherve my betht." Prince Loki's eyebrows went up at that declaration. "He needth to leard humility, *_SPARK_*_SPARK*_leard dothing," she explained. _

"_Ah, I see," the prince nodded again sagely. *_SPARK*_*_SPARK*_*_SPARK*

"_It ith not my first lesson, your majesty," she shrugged. "I hab done dis before."_

"And sometime after that, Sgt. Biggess was indeed killed, Sgt. Sauer. The timing seems opportunistic, to say the least." Fury said coldly.

"I did _not_ kill Sgt. Biggess, sir. He died exactly as I described to you: fell off a catwalk and impaled on some equipment one story down. The only reason I did not join him in death was my rescue by the Hulk," Sauer snapped.

"Still, the timing..."

"Is of no consequence, as you should realize, _**sir**_. I had oatmeal for breakfast on the day of the attack. Did my eating oatmeal cause the attack on the ship and subsequent deaths, or is the timing merely coincidental?"

"Don't try to get cute with me, Sauer." Fury said coldly. "I'm not in the mood."

"I've been told my 'getting cute' is an impossibility: _sir_," she parried. "Most recently, by the disgraced dead Sergeant whose death you seem to want to pin on me." Her spine stiffened and her face, now nearly black from the healing bruises, glared into Fury's. "We were barely co-workers, certainly not friends nor dating. Sgt. Biggess tried to _**rape **_me-_**twice**_-one week ago, and ended up dead in his second attempt. I call that _poetic justice_," she snapped, "but not revenge."

"Be that as it may, I have a problem," Fury said, sitting back in his chair. "Sgt. Biggess had political connections, and those connections are railing for an inquest into his death."

"I don't care for the political games you have to play, Commander."

"Nor do I." He leaned forward. "What do you know of Sgt. Biggess' family?"

She frowned and shrugged. "Nothing. I know he came from a privileged family. His former assaults and rapes went unpunished by his superior officers, probably for that reason."

Fury stiffened. "What former..."

"Talk to Doc in Sickbay 2. He has the evidence you need. You may also want to discuss the matter with any female non-coms that have left S.H.I.E.L.D. employ in the last year."

"I would," Fury drawled, sitting back in his chair, "if any of those people were still alive."

Sauer stiffened. "What? Doc...?"

"The medical officer you know of as 'Doc' was killed by shrapnel that pierced the medical bay. It cut through a few oxygen lines and sparked an explosion. 'Doc' is dead, and his computer is destroyed: melted to slag."

Sauer was stunned. "Biggess' other victims...Doc said they made reports to their immediate superior officers..."

"I have spoken to Biggess' immediate supervisors. They all deny any problem with the late Sergeant, any plausible mention of conduct unbecoming, and certainly no complaints of sexual assault in _any_ degree."

"Of course not," Sauer murmured. "If he was as politically connected as you say, nothing short of a dead body would be considered a 'plausible mention'. Maybe not even one of those."

"Sauer?"

"Just thinking, sir. Even Ted Kennedy had Chappaquiddick. Some people are just Teflon when the SHTF," she said grimly, "unless it hits them directly." She looked at him warily. "Surely you can make some inquiries into the ship's medical logs. Female personnel are not that common aboard ship, and anybody seeking medical attention for SA would have been logged, at the very least as a PAP smear. Cross-reference those records with anyone who has left the ship since Biggess..."

"_Sergeant_ Biggess," Fury corrected her.

"Sergeant Biggess came on board, and interview..."

"Sergeant Sauer," Fury said in a tone that said _shut up now_. She closed her mouth. He had one of his _I-mean-business-so-don't-talk_ looks on his face. She gulped.

"I fully appreciate and understand your desire to clear your name. I do. Sergeant Biggess was, by scuttlebutt, an incompetent ass at best, and an abusive piece of shit at worst. Unfortunately scuttlebutt does not make it into official documents, and it most certainly does not get reported to a dead soldier's _family_,"

Sauer started to inflate. Fury held up a finger. His face still said _shut up_, so she did.

"Especially when that dead soldier's _family_ sits on the Council of Regents," he finished coldly.

Sauer deflated. "The Council of Regents?" She blinked. "As in, the Council-that-sits-in-shadows-and-orders-you-to-nuke-Manhattan, Council of Regents?"

"You see my problem then, Sergeant Sauer." Fury's voice was cold. Frostbitten.

"Yes, sir, I do," she answered. "The _**rapist**_was kin to the people that **own S.H.I.E.L.D.,** and therefore **us**. Therefore, he never **did** do anything wrong, he never **could** have done anything wrong, and any witnesses or claimants to the contrary must either be **lying** or need to be **removed**." The last few words were out of her mouth before she had time to contemplate them; the shock of them hit her about two heartbeats later. She looked at Fury...oddly. "Am I about to become a casualty of war, sir?" She could feel her muscles tensing.

Fury settled back in his chair and raised his hands. "In a way, Sergeant, we're all casualties of war," he said matter-of-factly. "Some of us just live longer with the scars than others."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, Sergeant, that you received a head injury during the initial attack on the ship, and were subjected to significant stress during said attack, including but not limited to witnessing the accidental death of Sergeant Biggess. You are now showing signs of severe combat stress, or PTSD, and have had to be relieved of duty."

"But..." Fury held up a finger. Sauer shut her mouth again.

"You will be held on suicide watch for the rest of the week. If, at the end of that week, Sgt. Biggess' family wishes to interview you, I can arrange for you to be nearly catatonic from 'shock'. When that danger-for lack of a better term-is past, you will be furloughed while you heal. I believe some R&R is in order. Perhaps you should take the opportunity to visit your family in Colorado," he finished, not unkindly.

Sauer waited a few heartbeats, calculating...

"Sir?"

He raised his eyebrow.

"I believe you know more than you are letting on, sir. What _really_ happened to the other women Biggess attacked?"

Fury looked pained. "Most recently re-stationed personnel from the _Iolaus_ worked at the Palos Altos site."

Sauer nodded, comprehension dawning on her face. "I understand that rescue operations there have been changed to recovery."

He nodded. "That is correct. We may never find some of our missing personnel."

She frowned. "Perhaps I should join them, sir."

"You can have your choice of duty stations after..."

"You misunderstand me, sir." It was her voice now that had frostbite.

Fury gave her a questioning look. "Go on."

"If the best you can do with me is to offer me up to the rapist's family as some sort of shattered lamb, then I have outlived my usefulness to S.H.I.E.L.D., **sir**. I will neither take the fall for Biggess' death nor whitewash it. This _**family**_," she spat the word out, "raised a rapist **and** tried to use a thermonuclear device on a civilian population, **sir**. I don't care who they think they **own**, they do not own **me**." She glared at him right then. "And if you're half the commander I think you are, they don't own**you**, either."

Fury leaned forward. "Be very, very careful, Sergeant," he said softly.

She leaned forward as well. "With all due respect, sir, if my options are fake PTSD and a vacation, with the promise of a cushy job afterwards, or a bullet, I'll take the _bullet_, sir." She thought for a moment. "Just send the S&W X-frame home to my father, will you?"

Fury made an odd noise through his nose and pressed a button on his intercom. A hidden door swung open at the back of the office.

Agent Phil Coulson rolled in a wheelchair, his eyes still glowing faintly blue.

Nick Fury pulled a $10 bill out of his wallet and slapped it into the man's hand. "Enjoy it," he said gruffly, "I won that bill off of Cap a week ago."

"Thanks, I will," Coulson said, tucking the bill into his wallet. "Hey, Pistol," he said to the stunned woman sitting across from Fury, "I told you to use one of those R-packs, didn't I? You're still a mess."

Sergeant Sauer turned weakly to her Commanding officer. "I don't suppose you have any single-malt Scotch, do you?"

"Swill," Fury said, pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniels. He poured them all a shot. "I always drink American."

It burned going down...when did it not?...but at least now Sauer had a reason to feel woozy. She set her glass down with a _clink_.

"Now," Fury said, businesslike again, "now that you're both officially _dead_, what do I do with you?"

"I have an idea," Coulson offered, his voice sounding oddly metallic.


	6. Old Acquaintences

_Two years later..._

Thor stepped off of the express elevator into the Stark Towers penthouse, his hand on the back of Loki's neck. The dark prince was no longer muzzled, but his mouth worked oddly, as if his lips barely opened, and his hands were closely shackled. Fandral and Hogun brought up the rear, while Volstagg and Lady Sif stepped off the other elevator.

It had been a long two years, even in Asgard. Thor looked strained, grizzled even more than usual, his blond beard longer and curling, and with a fresh scar down one cheek. Loki's face was drawn, his hair ragged, and large dark circles set under his eyes. Fandral's usually flirtatious tongue was stilled and his (normally immaculate) hair and beard were shaggy, while Hogun sported some white hair. Volstagg looked as if he had lost weight. Lady Sif's sharp eyes gave the reception area the once over, noticing the weakness of their position.

"Not a place I would want to be in, in case of an aerial attack," she murmured, "too open to the sky, and not enough infrastructures. What are they thinking, building like this without the solidity of stone? 'Tis most like a greenhouse, this castle, and like one 'tis likely to shatter upon the slightest impact."

"Be not dismayed by appearances, Lady Sif," Thor rumbled. "Anthony Stark of Midgard himself designed and built this fortress. The windows may take a full-on Citauri strike without breaking, and the foundation goes below bedrock. It can withstand an earthquake that t'would level the city proper. The Hulk, were he so inclined, might do some damage, but e'en he would have to expend much of his strength to do so. We are quite secure here."

"What about magical attack?" Fandral's tongue had become as sharp as his sword. He looked at Loki even as he said it.

"My father has taken care of the matter," Thor reassured his friend. "Worry not."

A slim figure rose from behind a desk. Short brown hair curled becomingly around pale cheekbones, and a taupe pantsuit hung loosely from a thin frame. Dark chocolate eyes scanned the group.

"Your majesties and visitors from Asgard, I bid you good morning and welcome to Earth and Stark Tower," the slight figure said. "The conference will begin as soon as you are settled. A mid-morning break is scheduled; lunch will be served promptly at noon. May I take your cloaks?" The slim secretary stepped up to Thor first, gray eyes questioning. "Prince Thor?"

Thor scowled for a second at the formal title. He usually dispensed with formalities when in the field; he didn't like the type of attention it drew.

"This is not a royal function; my formal title is not necessary, lad. 'Thor', 'Son of Odin', or 'Mr. Odinson' will do. And I will keep my cape with me, thank you," he rumbled.

Behind him, Fandral winced.

The slim figure raised an eyebrow. "As you wish, Mr. Odinson . But once again, it isn't 'lad': it's 'lass'. I must express my surprise this time: I am not outfitted as a soldier today, and my face is no longer black and blue."

Thor almost took a step back, peering the young woman over. "Sergeant Sauer," he said after a moment, "this is a surprise."

She shook her head. "Sergeant no longer; I am no longer affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D. I am now merely 'Miss' Sauer, at your service, sir." She turned to the rest of the group. "As for your companions?"

"My apologies, Lady Sauer," Thor rumbled. He waved his hand at the assembled group. "Here be the Lady Sif, lady-warrior of Asgard, and these other companions of mine are the Warriors Three: Fandral the Dashing (Fandral appraised her figure, then smirked and nodded in greeting), Hogun the Grim (he bowed slightly with a hand to his chest), and Volstag the Valiant ("Greetings, Lady Sauer," the russet giant rumbled.) And this," a massive hand pulled Loki forward, "is..."

"Your foster-brother, Prince Loki of Asgard, son of Odin All-Father, God of Lies and Mischief," Miss Sauer nodded. Thor raised his eyebrows in surprise. "We met on the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier _Iolaus_, two years ago." She turned to the dark prince and inclined her head. "Your Majesty, it is good to see you again. May I take your cloak?" she offered, extending a hand.

A ghost of a smile flickered across the dark prince's face. "The pleasure is mine, Lady Sauer," he said, his voice smooth and deep. He grabbed the extended hand with his shackled ones and raised it to his lips, brushing it with a kiss. "And yes, you may."

She blushed slightly at the courtly behavior, but reclaimed her hand. "Half a moment, your lordship," she said, retreating to her desk and pulling out a chair. She hopped up onto it. "You are much taller than I am," she explained, then glanced at the chain that held his cloak. "On which side is the clasp?" she murmured.

Loki inclined his eyes to the left. She smiled politely in return and reached for it as Sif spoke up.

"The chair is unseemly. Can Loki not bend over for our little friend?" she said sharply.

"Your pardon, Lady Sif," Sauer said, frowning at the taller woman, "but one does not ask a _prince_ to bow to a smith's daughter. Not even," she paused as the clasp came open with a _snap_, "on Earth."

Loki's cape came away with a whisper of green silk, which Sauer deftly gathered up. Leaping down from her perch, she hung it up on a nearby coat-rack.

"Anyone else?"

Fandral shrugged and handed his black cape over with a flourish and a wink (which Sauer ignored). Hogun opted to keep his blue one on, but Volstagg surrendered his red wrap with a cheerful smile.

"Thank you, lass," he said good-naturedly.

Sif eyed the young woman with some suspicion. She mistrusted Loki completely, and the tiny (to her, anyway) Midgardian seemed to make a point of being nice to the Trickster God. "I will keep my wrap, thank you," she said stiffly.

"As you wish," Sauer said, wondering at the taller woman's attitude. When all the spare capes had been hung up, Sauer turned to the group. "This way, please, Lady and Gentlemen."

"And God of Mischief," muttered Fandral.

Sauer walked through a set of double doors into a nearby conference room, which was filled with the rest of the Avengers team and several S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives. "Mr. Stark," she called out, "the Asgardians are here." She paused as they filed in behind her. "Their majesties Princes Thor and Loki, the Warriors Three: Lords Fandral, Hogun, and Volstag, and finally the Lady Sif," she announced.

Thor looked down at the young woman. "I did tell you the formalities were unnecessary, lass," he chided gently.

"This was a formal announcement at a formal war conference, Mr. Odinson," she chided back. "_Of course_ the formalities were necessary. How you handle things from here on is your business. Unfortunately," she glanced at the rest of the Asgardian party, "we were only expecting two of you. The chairs marked with your and Prince Loki's name have been reinforced for your weight and size, but I can't speak for the rest of your party."

"I shall handle that," Loki said quietly. He looked knowingly at Thor. "I still have some ability left to me," he said with a touch of bitterness.

Thor nodded and turned away towards Tony Stark, who was making his way across a crowded room to greet him, but Loki turned back to Sauer and took her hand in his manacled ones again.

"Thank you," he said simply, his green eyes piercing hers, "for your consideration. It is much appreciated."

Her cheeks pinked a little at the renewed contact, but she remained collected. "You are most welcome, your..."

"'Prince Loki' will do, for now."

"As you wish, Prince Loki." He still had not released her hand, and as her eyes slipped to the manacles on his wrists, a shadow crossed her face.

"Do not feel bad for me, Miss Sauer," Loki said: his voice suddenly deep and with a dangerous edge. "There is a reason for these, as well as for the binding on my mouth, which you cannot see. And do not mistake civility for safety," he added. "One does not translate into the other."

"I know," she said, brown eyes boring into his. "Civility merely shows intelligence, discipline, and courtesy. Safety is something one must fight for."

"Smart girl." He glanced down at the bulge in her sleeve. "What did you do to your arm?"

They were interrupted by Tony Stark's arrival.

"Hey, Reindeer Games! Hands off my secretary! C'mon, we need to get started," the billionaire superhero said coldly. "Miss Sauer, I need you to get on the phone with Chef Paul. We have more guests for lunch today than anticipated," he added in the same tone.

"Of course, Mr. Stark," she said, nodding. Turning back to Loki, she reclaimed her hand. "If you wish, sir, we can get caught up during the break. I must return to work, and you have important things to discuss."

"Of course," Loki said smoothly. He watched the young woman as she left the room, and turned to find Stark looking at him with unbridled hostility. "Ah, Stark. It has been too long. Did you miss me?" he purred, his familiar smirk returning.

"Not for long enough, apparently, although I must thank you for the redecorating efforts upstairs. I had a sunken garden created out of the impression you made in my floor two years ago," Stark said pointedly. "When I squint just right, I can make out your shape in the green."

Loki snarled at the man, and for a second they looked as if they would come to blows. Thor stepped between them.

"Brother. Friend Stark. We have things of more import to discuss than old rivalries," he rumbled. "We must begin. The hour grows dark e'en as we spar over old hurts."

"Of course," Loki said coldly, not breaking eye contact with Stark even as he spoke to Thor. "Just renewing an old _acquaintance_, brother," he added softly.

"We have another one to discuss," Thor said firmly, moving so his bulk cut off the war between Loki's eyes and Tony Stark's. "If you would be so kind as to fix the chairs for our _companions_," he prompted.

Loki turned his gaze directly to Thor at that, and his face went blank. "Of course," he said. With a flourish four of the conference room chairs were magically adjusted for the Warriors Three and Lady Sif's extra mass.

Thor nodded, pleased. "Come, brother. We have much to discuss." He led Loki to his chair, but remained standing even as everyone else in the room took their seats.

"My friends," Thor rumbled grimly, "it has been too long. I only wish our visit was on better terms. Our guardian, Heimdall All-seer, has identified a danger to Midgard that is beyond your military's ability to withstand. We have come to offer you our aid, if that is possible, in the hopes of saving and protecting this realm."

"What is this danger, Prince Thor?" Nick Fury leaned forward even as he spoke. "And why is Prince Loki, of all people, here with you, if our protection is what you desire?"

"I am here because I have intimate knowledge of the impending threat," Loki said coldly, "far more than Thor could ever have learned from the Gatekeeper of Asgard. I am here because, Commander Fury, whether or not you like it, you need me," the dark prince finished, his face impassive.

"And this threat is?" Dr. Bruce Banner prompted, leaning over the table to look Loki in the face.

"A Titan," Thor replied, "a being from your own solar system, though not from your planet. A mad creature so obsessed with death that he has named himself after it, and seeks to court it. His name is Thanos."

/

"No, Chef, I'm not making this up. The conference just started, and we have six Asgardians, not two. Yes," Sauer paused as Chef Paul sputtered something incomprehensible. "No, I didn't know either." _More sputtering._ "Look, I understand you want to make a good impression, but..." _Grieve, mourn, and wail._ _Drama queen-king-whatever_, she thought. "Oh, good _lord_! I told you that it was a bad idea when you pitched it! These people eat like professional football players coming off of a starvation diet! No, you cannot serve finger sandwiches and little broccoli trees!" _Sputter, sputter _"Those will probably be fine for the break at 10am, along with any fresh fruit you have. Do we have any cider?" _Spark?_ "Oh, I think about 100 gallons or so should do the trick. Make some wassail out of it and you'll have some super-friends for...**_what do you mean, you don't know how to make wassail?"_**_Cough, sputter, rant _"Oh, good LORD, even I can do that, and I burn French toast!" _Sputter, sputter_ Sauer's head started to pound. "Look, it's easy. For every gallon of cider you need 27 whole cloves, 8 cinnamon sticks, 1 quart of pineapple juice, and a can of frozen orange juice concentrate. Put the spices in the dispensers. Heat the juices together and pour them over the spices. Do you have any large beer steins? Good. We're going to need six of those." _Sputter, wail, gripe? _"No, not until dinner. Do we have any kegs in the house, or should I order out?" _Moan, groan, gripe._ "Fine, I can take care of that, too. What did you have planned for dinner?" _Hem, haw, moan._ "No, that sounds fine. Just quadruple the amount of rice you were going to make. If I get you a couple of large fish, can you broil them?" _Question?_ "Oh, I was thinking a couple of whole swordfish and maybe some salmon. I can have it shipped in from the dock directly. You handle the desserts for lunch, and I'll order out for meat and cheese, ok? Where did you get that to-die-for pastrami last week?" _Grumble._ "Great, I'll give them a call. Thanks, Chef. Bye."

What the hell kind of chef didn't know how to make wassail? Sauer didn't want to know. Maybe it just wasn't a highbrow enough kind of drink. She grabbed two aspirins and gulped them down, then picked up the phone again and dialed.

"**_Katz's Deli_**," yelled the voice on the other end.

TBC


	7. Lunchbreak

Pepper Potts walked out of the elevator at 9:00am to find her office assistant's head stuck at an odd angle, still on the phone. Sauer held up one finger, and Pepper nodded.

"That will be great. You're a lifesaver! No, seriously. I mean that. I'll see you at 4. Bye!"

Sauer hung up and sagged dramatically back in her chair. Pepper had to laugh.

"Tony has company coming?"

"Something like that," Sauer nodded. "There's a whole Avenger's conference going on in the main hall, we have six Asgardians instead of two, and Chef was planning on feeding everybody finger sandwiches and little broccoli trees with his fancy salmon dip and a fruit cup because it's a _civilized_ meal. Oy!"

Pepper raised an eyebrow. "Chef Paul was going to feed the Avengers _finger sandwiches? _Has he gone insane? What did you do?"

Sauer winced. "I had to borrow the boss's card. I put in a couple of emergency requests at places like Katz's and Sarge's and Kloski's. I called the wharf, too. There's a small truckload of fresh salmon and swordfish on its way in right now."

Pepper nodded. "Good idea. Hopefully we have enough bread..."

"Chef said he could handle that. Fortunately Katz threw in several loaves of their marble rye for free, considering the size of the order. They should be setting up in Conference room Beta within the hour."

"Nice." Pepper thought for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. "You order any beer for tonight? I don't think Tony's liquor cabinet is up to a half-dozen Asgardians."

Sauer nodded and motioned to the phone. "I just got off with New Holland Brewery's New York office. They're delivering-hopefully enough to get us through the night, and in time for dinner."

Pepper pursed her lips. "Ooooooh...aren't they the ones that make that Dragon's Milk Stout?"

Sauer nodded. "The same."

The kitchen staff arrived just then, and the ladies had to move to let them pass.

"I can't believe it's been nearly two hours already," Sauer said, wilting a little. "I should probably help set up."

"I'll watch the phone," Pepper offered.

/

The break was over quickly: coffee, donuts, and small sandwiches putting a little spring back into the humans' steps, and intriguing the Asgardians, most of whom had never had either coffee or donuts. Once the last few crumbs had been devoured, however, the group slouched back into the conference room to scowl at each other.

The war conference was not going well. Even with Thor's assurance of Thanos' existence and determination, Fury was hard-pressed to accept the reality of the threat.

"We've sent probes to this moon-this Titan," he insisted. "No forms of life were found when it was scanned. I think we would have seen any form of military build up if..."

Sif groaned with frustration. "We have explained that, Sir Fury. This Mad Titan is _originally_ from your solar system. He does not live here _now_. He has been roaming different portions of the Universe for some three millennia, and only_ recently_ turned his attention to Midgard."

"We still should have found some trace of life..."

Loki slammed his fists on the table. "Have you heard _nothing_? Thanos destroyed_ everything_ in and around his home-world: artwork, architecture, flora, fauna, life down to the microbial level! He sterilized Titan completely, wiping out his own family and race! If such a thing happened on Midgard, what could anyone expect to find after 3000 years but _sand_?"

"Thanos' devotion to Death led him to start his own globe's Ragnarok," Thor chimed in, "and that was only his beginning. He has done so time and again, in other portions of the galaxy, and will do so _here_ unless he can be stopped. Somehow Midgard caught his attention again, and he has abandoned other projects to focus on your realm."

"Thanks a lot," Tony said, glaring directly at Loki.

Loki raised his hands in mock innocence. "Blame me not. Thanos was merely willing to back my takeover of this realm; he was not originally interested in destroying it. It was only after my inglorious defeat that he became interested in your race, and found his reason for wanting to destroy you."

"He needs a _reason_ beyond total psychosis and schizophrenia?" Agent Romonov pressed.

"Any decent leader needs a reason to lead his troops into battle, lest he lose their loyalty and willingness to fight," Fandral volunteered. "From what we know of Thanos, he lost some of that loyalty when his Chitauri were defeated here two years ago. He has since learned of an apparent blasphemy against his lady love, and seeks to avenge her honor by removing the blaspheming race. With such a religious frenzy, he has renewed vigor for his troops and re-forged his own purpose."

"He's trying to avenge his girlfriend's _honor_?" Barton was aghast. "Who does this guy think he is: a medieval knight jousting for his lady's favor, with the planet as his prize?"

"No, with Midgard as his _opponent_," Hogun corrected, "and yes, for his lady's honor."

"Is she even from this system? Because we've supposedly insulted a woman badly enough to warrant an inter-galactic whumping, and we've never even heard of her!" Tony was incredulous.

"That was explained to you at the outset," Volstagg said patiently. "Thanos courts Death."

"Death," said Fury, sitting back in his chair and studying the Norse Gods across the table.

"As in, the heart-stops-beating-and-all-brain-function-ceases- and-the-body-gets-cold-and-stiff, Death?" asked Tony.

"Cut-the-silver-thread-and-send-the-soul-back-to-i ts-maker, Death?" asked Barton.

Thor nodded. "Personified," he added.

"Thanos is trying to champion the Grim Reaper?" Romonov asked, her face puckering. "Is he gay? Because that's really a masculine character," she added.

"Why does his emotional state matter?" asked Fandral.

"Pardon?" frowned Fury.

"Lady Romonov asked if the Mad Titan was happy..."

"Not happy: _gay_," corrected Banner. Blank looks from the Asgardians indicated none of them understood, so he continued. "'Gay' refers to his sexual orientation, not his mood. It means he prefers consort with those of his own gender. The Grim Reaper is masculine, so..."

"_'Samkynhneigðra'_, in our language," Loki offered. "No, he is not."

"You would know that, _hommi_," Fandral muttered. Loki shot him a dark look.

"Enough, Fandral," Thor rumbled. "You help matters not."

A mild ringing sounded across the room.

"And that is the signal for the break," Tony announced as Jarvis gently chimed. "Ladies and gentlemen, lunch waits in the next room."

"Thank God," Hawkeye muttered. "I'm starved."

Lunch was easily understood, even with the Asgardians sampling spiced meats for the first time. Volstagg was an instant fan of the pastrami, swiss, and rye bread combination, and quickly developed a taste for large dill pickles and sauerkraut. Hogun was similarly pleased, and took a special liking to the potato salad. Apparently potatoes were unheard of on Asgard. Fandral stuck with the familiar corned beef and rye, though he did sample some of the tropical fruits. Lady Sif contented herself with the razor-thin turkey slices, and Natasha introduced her to the various spreads-like mayonnaise and mustard-that were also unheard-of on Asgard. The two women settled down and started swapping tales about their experiences with weaponry (and insufferable men) and quickly became friends.

Thor, having grown accustomed to Midgardian foods, tore into the smorgasbord with gusto. Loki, however, was a bit cautious.

"These are grapes?" He held up a cluster for a dubious examination. "They are shaped oddly, and small. Was it a bad year?"

"Those are seedless variety," Pepper explained. "They're a recent mutation. We have seedless oranges and bananas, too. They're quite tasty, though the grapes are a bit tart."

"So are you," Tony murmured into her ear as he moved through the buffet line. "Nom, nom, nom."

"You're _so_ bad," she murmured.

"What did the Beatles say? All you need is love..."

Loki rolled his eyes and piled more food on his plate. "Trust you to take romantic advice from an insect, Stark," he quipped.

Tony scowled, but his comeback was cut off.

"Are you two at it _again_? That's the third time this week! Did the Asgardians slip Eros in under Thor's cape or something? Because I don't think I can handle any more of this as a work environment," Sauer groused. "And on top of that, you're quoting the Beatles again!"

"What's wrong with the Beatles?" Tony scowled at Pepper's assistant.

She shrugged. "Nothing, really, except they're outdated and weird-looking, and Journey was better."

"Blasphemer. Pepper, _why_ did you hire her?"

"She's better than Barton with a pistol, has a great phone voice, and doesn't put up with your crap like the rest of the staff does," Pepper answered.

"Besides, J.A.R.V.I.S. likes me," Sauer quipped, grabbing some Swiss cheese.

"Somebody has to," Tony muttered. Pepper elbowed him. Sauer just stuck her tongue out at her boss, finished filling her plate, and walked towards the foyer.

"How do you get to escape all this?" Loki scowled as she sidled past.

"I apologize, Prince Loki, but I have to _work_," she whined, popping a grape into her mouth. "I'm taking lunch at my station. You and Mr. Stark just enjoy each other's _company_," she said with a smirk, "like royals _should_," she said, and glided out of the room.

"What did that signify?" Loki muttered out loud.

"Loosely translated," Dr. Banner offered, "it means 'you're stuck here and I'm not, ha ha, sucks to be you."

"Impertinent little minx," Loki muttered.

"100% all the time," Stark confirmed, nodding, "but she's great with an acetylene torch."

"Hmmmmf," Loki said, taking in the crowd of hostiles eating around him. "I think I shall enjoy this break after all," he muttered to himself, and vanished from sight.


	8. Pepper's Padawan

Hogun twitched at the vanishing act, and frowned. Thinking quickly, he rose and sidled out of the banquet hall.

Loki found Sauer sitting at her desk, and pulled up a (magically modified) chair. "Aesir," he corrected around a grape. "And Eros doesn't need to be here; fertility is Thor's patronage," he added, nodding in the direction of the banquet room.

She hadn't heard him coming, and jumped. "A-what?"

"The Aesir are from Asgard; we don't use the term 'Asgardian'," he explained.

"That gets confusing," she admitted, dipping her fork into some cole slaw. "I read a little bit of the Norse legends after the Battle of Manhattan, and all the rest of the worlds seemed to end in 'heimr'. So there is a Jotunheimr and a Muspelheimr and a Vanaheimr and a few other 'heimrs' that I can't even _say_, but my planet and yours end in 'gard'."

"'Heimr' comes from a word that means 'home', so it essentially means 'home world'. 'Garðr' means 'town-wall' or 'keep', so Asgard was originally As Garðr, the Keep of the As, or Aesir." Loki slipped easily into a teaching vibe, she noticed.

"And Midgard?"

"Miðgarðr, the Keep of the Menn-Humans, yes. Another translator mistook the 'ð' for the letter 'd', and changed it to the word you know today." He took a bite of sandwich. "So," he said after swallowing, "what did you do to your arm?"

"I burned it at the forge two weeks ago. It's healing, but still quite sore." She spared a glance at the bulge underneath the long sleeve. "It put me behind in my class, but I suppose we're all lucky to be alive."

"Class?"

"I'm taking a sword-smithing class. My final piece just needs to be etched before judging, but I've had to put that off because of this," she raised her bandaged arm. "The fool that spit at the forge nearly got us all killed. HE flunked automatically, of course. The forge is a 'no stupid zone', and he was _monumentally_ stupid."

"Spitting into the forge is bad?" Prince Loki looked surprised. "I know not this custom. Is it a sign of disrespect?"

Sauer shook her head. "Spitting at a person is a sign of disrespect. Spitting-or throwing water of any kind-into a metals kiln is asking for an explosion. The fire is so hot it vaporizes the water, and BOOM, instant leveled building. We were lucky; only a drop or two of spit hit the liquid metal. I got this," she raised her arm, "from the resulting steam-jet. It's one giant blister, now." She swallowed another grape. "Eros exists?"

Loki smiled. "Naturally. Quite a lot of the so-called 'pagan' pantheons actually exist, though we do not count them as part of the Nine."

"Nine what?"

"Nine realms," Loki said matter-of-factly, as if that explained all. The blank look on her face told him it did not. "You read some of these legends after my last...visit...shall we say? So you are familiar with Jotunheimr and Musphelheimr and so forth?" She nodded. "That collection is called the Nine Realms: nine interconnected kingdoms-though Midgard does not currently have a king over it."

"Like an intergalactic archipelago," she offered.

He pulled on his wassail and blinked. "Powerfully sweet, but good," he said, nodding at the tankard. "Your analogy is nearly correct."

"So how do the Olympians fit in?" Sauer was openly curious now.

"Hmmm. May I borrow this?" Loki held up the dish of M&M's she kept on her desk.

"Sure."

"Then behold: the Nine Realms of your Norse Mythology," he said, levitating nine various colored candies. "Along the vertical plane: Asgard, Alfheim, (yes, you can drop the 'r'), Midgard, Svartalfheim, and Helheim. Along the circular axis: Jotunheim, Niflheim, Vanaheim, and Muspelheim."

She blinked at the display of magic. "And Olympus?" she finally asked.

"Swings on a different axis, as do several different realms," Loki added some different candies to the slowly twirling mix, "but still connected to the Midgardian system. It was the center of intergalactic trade for millennia."

"So...Eros really exists?" Loki could almost _see_ Sauer's brain cells lighting up as she processed an entirely new galactic reality. It was cute.

Loki nodded. "He does, though not in the form you doubtless imagine: a winged babe with a bow and arrow. The real Eros is a master of what you might call biochemistry and animal husbandry. He is more a veterinarian than a meddler in romance, human or otherwise." He grinned impishly. "Though I admit, some of his hormone treatments _have_ passed as love potions in the past..."

"And so we have tales of him shooting people with darts to inspire their _lust._" Sauer shook her head, and a shadow passed across her face. "What happened? I mean, that everybody fell out of touch? We have stories of all of these different pantheons dying off..."

"Some of them did," Hogun stepped out of the shadows where he had been watching. "War destroyed much."

Loki stiffened at the intrusion, but nodded. "Hogun is correct. War between different realms threatened to destroy too much. By mutual treaties Midgard was abandoned by all, lest it be destroyed in our wresting for control."

"I think," she said, munching on some cole slaw, "that we are poorer for it. It should be good to know we aren't alone in the universe. Our people are too self-centered."

"You are _alive_ for it," Hogun said darkly. "There are some races you are better off not knowing."

"Like the Chitauri?" She glanced up at the huge Asian-looking Aesir, her face wrinkling.

"Like the Chitauri," he nodded, and picked up a dark brown candy, "and the Xanadu," he held it up for Loki, who nodded and added it to the swirling mobile, "and the Titans."

This time Hogun did _not_ pick up a candy, and Sauer noticed. "No system for the Titans?" she asked both men. "Was their planet destroyed by the Olympians, like the old myths say?"

"Sterilized," Loki nodded, "but not by the Olympians, though they did battle much. Titan was destroyed by one of their own some 3,000 years ago."

"How sad," she mused. "What kind of insanity drives a person to destroy their own home-world?"

"Love, believe it or not," Loki said dryly.

"Nonsense," Sauer said, shaking her head firmly. Loki coughed and raised an eyebrow.

"Your pardon, milady Sauer, but Prince Loki is _the_ expert on the Mad Titan," Hogun corrected her. "He knows more about the creature's motivations than anyone."

"Meaning no offense, your majesty," Sauer soothed, "I merely mean that you mislabel this Mad Titan's motivation. Love is a _building_ emotion, not a destructive one. If the Mad Titan destroyed his own home-world to impress some romantic attraction, then that attraction was certainly not love. Lust, perhaps. Obsession, certainly, but not love."

Loki frowned. "An interesting theory. On what do you base this opinion?"

"Oh, we have entire philosophies that revolve around love, as well as one major religion. One of the teachings from that religion explains it like this: 'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always respects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never ends.' The author goes on to say that the three greatest things in the universe are 'faith, hope, and love, but the greatest of these is love.'" Sauer finished quoting.

"Fascinating," Hogun murmured.

"Tell me," Loki said, suddenly leaning forward. "What does this religion say about death?"

"Quite a lot," Sauer said, surprised, "the main point is that Death has been overcome, conquered, and will be completely destroyed at the final judgment when the universe is made new."

Loki and Hogun exchanged knowing looks. "That could be it," the brooding warrior nodded.

"What could be what?" Sauer asked, looking at the suddenly energized aliens on either side of her.

"You may have just given us part of the solution to our current problem, Lady Sauer," Loki said smoothly. "I do thank you for the conversation."

"You are most welcome. Thank you for the display of magic as well," she smiled up at the M&M mobile. "I didn't know you were a magician."

Loki coughed out loud at that. "I _beg_ your pardon. A magician is an _illusionist_. No real magic is found in _their_ slight-of-hand. I am a _sorcerer_, thank you."

Sauer frowned, puzzled again. "My bad. Ummmm, is a sorcerer the same as a wizard? I'm not much for the fairy-tale books popular these days."

Loki pressed his lips together at that one, and looked at Hogun for assistance. "I find myself out of metaphors for this, Hogun."

Hogun frowned. "Know you the difference between boxing and Jeet Kune Do?"

Sauer bit her lips. "I know what boxing is. Jeet Kune Do sounds vaguely familiar. Is that the form of Kung-fu invented by Bruce Lee?"

Hogun nodded. "The same. A Jeet Kune Do master strikes with everything, without restraint, except for his own conscience. Such is a sorcerer in the use of magic. A boxer strikes with only a gloved fist, and only in approved areas. The wizard is like the boxer: confined by his school's philosophy."

"Well said, Hogun." Loki was obviously impressed.

"500 years we have ridden together. Did you think I hadn't noticed?" the man said dryly.

A trickle of people moving from the lunchroom back into the conference room cut off their conversation. Apparently lunch was over.

"We need to return," Hogun said crisply.

Loki nodded, stuffing the last of his sandwich into his mouth and gulping it down. He tossed back the remains of his wassail, too, before rising. "I shall get another tankard, first." He glanced down at the young smith-turned-secretary. "Will you join us? The assembly should hear what you just told us about this religion of yours."

She shook her head. "I can't; my place is here," she said, patting the desk. "But you don't need me anyway. Captain Rogers is a devout Christian, and can brief you better than I can. Ask him," she finished, nodding in the Captain's direction.

"Ask me what?" The tall blond stopped dead, hearing his name.

"We need to discuss your faith," Loki said abruptly. "Its teachings may hold some clue to the Mad Titan's plan of attack."

"Of course," the Captain was all business. "The conference room, gentlemen?"

There was a small bustle of people back and forth after that, and Sauer found herself fielding a sudden influx of phone calls, mostly from reporters trying to weasel any information out of her about the appearance of six extra-terrestrials at the Stark Tower Complex. She gave them the standard confidentiality statement and hung up. One of them, though, was important, and she flagged down Tony Stark as he walked past.

"Boss! There is a Doctor Eric Selvig on line four for you. He says it's important."

"Thank you, Miss Sauer," Stark said crisply, and tapped the Bluetooth earpiece he always wore. "Doc? Tony! How the hell are you? Funny you should call right now..." he ambled away, down the corridor and away from the rest of the conference, seeking a little quiet for their conversation.

Pepper watched him go, frowning thoughtfully, then turned back to the young office assistant. "Sooooooooooooo, what was that all about?" she pressed.

"Dr. Selvig? Search me," Sauer answered with a shrug. "It's probably more Avengers business, and above my pay grade."

"Nonsense," Pepper insisted, shaking her head. "You have too much military in your manners. You're an executive assistant now, missy: _everything_ is your business."

"Really?" Sauer sat back, surprised.

"Of course! Who do you think really runs this empire, anyway?" Pepper said with a grin. "Watch and learn, my padawan," she said, holding up a finger. "Hey, Tony! What time zone are we in?"

Tony covered up the phone's mic. "Atlantic, of course. Don't be silly."

"What's your social security number?" she called out, grinning.

Tony just scowled in her direction and stuck out his tongue.

"See?"

Sauer's jaw dropped open. "He's just like those guys on 'The Big Bang Theory', but with a better suit."

"_And_ better looking, _and_ with more money," Pepper grinned. "Tony can quote Pi to 37 places, but he doesn't know how much water goes into a coffee pot, or how much gas costs a gallon. I can quote each and every one of his bank accounts, credit, and debit cards, _with_ their security numbers and dates of expiration, as well as tell you what is on his W2's for the last 10 years."

"Teach me, masta," Sauer said, bowing stiffly.

Both women dissolved into giggles.

"Oh, I shall. But first," Pepper dragged over another office chair and folded her fingers together under her chin. "_You_ get to tell me how your lunch went with the God of Mischief. Hmmmm?"

Sauer thought for another minute before nodding. It seemed incredulous to her, too. "Well, um... It was a normal conversation...like out of a travelogue...stuff about their cosmology and other races and worlds, and a little bit about religion. We might have been a couple of tourists exchanging travel tips, it was so ordinary. Oh, and he made me this," she motioned to the still-spinning M&M mobile. "Apparently he can do magic of some kind."

Pepper sat back in surprise. "Are you serious? Are we talking about the same alien?"

Sauer nodded. "Tall, good looking, exceptionally well-mannered when he isn't trying to conquer the universe...yup, that's him...and we had an alien chaperone: the big Asian-looking guy...Hogun...he was there the whole time. I think Loki is under some sort of arrest...not allowed to go anywhere alone or something." She frowned. "You know...I think..."

"Yeeeees?" Pepper leaned forward conspiratorially.

Sauer looked around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "I think he's lonely," she said so only Pepper could hear.

"What?" Pepper was aghast. "You've got to be kidding!"

Sauer shook her head. "Think about it, Pepper. There was a whole room full of geniuses, and tough guys, and hot women, and alien bad-ass magic users-he can't be the only one, can he?-in that lunch room, and who did he choose to have lunch with? Me. I'm not pretty, I don't have rank or money or social status. Oh hell, I barely have any social skills at all! But where was he? Out here with me and a chaperone. _That_ is the mark of a desperately lonely man. I don't know what happened in the last two years, but as tough and as smart as he is, he's isolated and he's tired of it."

Pepper looked thoughtfully at the closing conference room door. "Hmmm." Tony walked past the pair, giving Pepper a friendly smile and a wink as he did, and the door closed finally behind him. "You might have a point there, kiddo. I think everybody in that room actually hates his guts, except for Thor, maybe. Just like when Tony came out of Afghanistan..." she fell silent, remembering how Tony's captivity had changed him, and frowned. Then she shook herself.

"That's for another day. Right now we need to begin your _training_, my padawan apprentice!" Pepper grinned conspiratorially.

"Is this anything like Business 101? Because I took all that in junior college."

Pepper waved a hand. "A mere foundation. This is the important stuff, so pay attention. Today's lesson is called 'Secretarial Surveillance', aka 'Eavesdropping 101'."

"I can do that?"

"Not only _can_ you, but you _must_. Knowledge is power, right?" Pepper was on a roll.

"Well, yes..."

"So...the best way to _keep_ power is to have as much knowledge as possible. Keep your eyes and your ears...especially your ears...as open as possible. The littlest clue or detail may make all the difference in the world."

"Like the story of the horse that lost a nail in the Crimean War."

"Exactly," Pepper nodded. "And you have the greatest surveillance tool known to man-or woman either-at your fingertips. Right, J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"That is correct, Miss Potts," replied the AI.

"Sooooo, spying on superheroes 101?" A sneaky smile crept onto Sauer's face.

"Right-o, lassie. Lesson 2 will be even more fun. _You're_ going to start dressing like a girl," Pepper arched an eyebrow at her assistant's wardrobe.

"What's wrong with what I have on?" Sauer glanced down at her taupe pantsuit, puzzled. "It's dressy and comfortable."

"All you have to do to blend in at MIT is grow a beard. You're a _woman_, Sauer. Embrace it," Pepper said sternly.

Sauer sighed. "I don't know, Pepper. I've never been good at that girly stuff. Waxing and shaving and mascara all seems like some form of torture to me."

"You're right, it is," Pepper said, nodding. "But life is tough! You'll be fine; trust me."

TBC


	9. Catechism

Abraham. Isaac. Isreal. Moses and the Ten Commandments. King David and his line. Jerusalem and the Temple. Sacrifice. The Immaculate Conception and the Virgin Birth. Jesus and the Apostles. Betrayal. Crucifixion. Resurrection. Ascension. Salvation and the Gospel. Revelation. Death, Hell, and the Grave.

Captain Rogers tried to give the company what Commander Fury called the "Reader's Digest Condensed Version" of his faith. He really did. J.A.R.V.I.S. helped out by providing a wall-to-wall timeline of significant events and pictures of various places in the Holy Land.

It still took two hours.

Tony Stark fake-napped in his chair: sprawling and snoring in an exaggerated fashion out of boredom. Clint got sick of his attitude and started lobbing paper wads at Tony's open mouth. Clint didn't believe in Jesus either, but he wasn't about to be openly rude to Cap, especially when the information might help them form some planetary defense. Most of the paper wads fell short, though. There was a slight breeze from the air conditioning that blew them off course.

Volstagg caught on to Clint's prank after the third paper wad failed. The giant redhead rummaged about the plate he had brought in from the lunchroom and produced 3 blue-cheese-stuffed ripe olives. These he gave to Hawkeye with a wink.

Loki grinned at the ongoing mischief; for once he could watch the fun and nobody could blame him. Thor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Clint's first shot bounced off of Tony's face. The second olive landed in his mouth, where it was promptly swallowed. Natasha scowled at Clint and held out her hand in a demanding gesture. Clint gave her the contrite puppy-dog face, but surrendered the olive.

"Juvenile delinquent," she murmured, "it's like _this_," she said, and gave the olive a swift sideways _whip_. The olive embedded itself inside Tony's right nostril, the cheese _sploinking_ out to dribble down his chin.

Tony fell out of his chair, sputtering obscenities, all pretense of sleeping through the Bible lesson gone.

"Nice shot," murmured Lady Sif to her new friend.

"Thanks," said Tasha, leaning back in her chair and grinning.

Thor wiped his face with his hand and tried to look serious, but Loki was shaking with mirth, albeit silently.

"If you children are **_QUITE_** through!" Fury finally bellowed.

"Yeah, guys, what happened to saving the earth?" whined Stark, wiping splatted blue cheese off his face. "Since when did Sunday School become a food fight?"

"Consider yourself lucky, Stark. In my day if somebody made such a _scootch_ of himself during catechism he got hit with itchy balls or skully caps, not olives," Cap snorted. "Now quit bein' a weisenheimer and pay attention!"

"_Brooklyn_," Stark muttered darkly, glaring at him.

"_Uptown_," Cap groused back.

"_Men_," Sif and Tasha said in unison, rolling their eyes in disgust.

"Ladies and gentlemen...and Fandral...I give you Earth's mightiest heroes!" Loki poured on the sarcasm, clapping loudly for affect. It earned him several indignant glares from the Avengers side of the table, but once he had their attention he snarled furiously. "I suppose you boys have forgotten _why_ we are listening to this? _Or_ that some of us have never heard it before? Thanos is coming; make no mistake. And _this _religious teaching," he pointed to the glowing holographic timeline, "fits the profile of the offending religion _and_ the timeline of the offense."

"Never mind that more sophisticated minds think it's all rubbish and fairy tales," Tony snarled.

"What _you_ think of _any_ faith is of no import now, friend Stark," Thor rumbled. "What matters is what _Thanos_ thinks of it. That creature's madness has convinced him that _this teaching_ threatens his lady love. No amount of disbelief will dissuade him from rubbing the _memory_ of it out of the cosmos."

"But this is insane!" Tony sputtered.

"Thanos probably is, but that doesn't make the threat any less real, Stark," Clint spoke up for the first time in three hours. "How sane was Obadiah Stone when he tried to have you killed? How about the Mandarin? Did their sanity, or lack of it, affect their ability to invent or wage war?"

"Well said," Hogun said, nodding at the archer.

"Thanks," Clint answered.

"We are wasting time trying to convince Lord Stark of any reasonable course of action," Fandral interjected, his face suddenly mutinous. "For the nonce, it seems clear that this realm is at its end. I, for one, intend to enjoy what is left of it while it still stands." The sculpted warrior kicked his chair back, away from the table, and stood. "If you will excuse me, Thor?" He gave his prince a jaunty salute.

"Where will you go?" Thor said, frowning. "We may have need of you yet, old friend."

"Not far," Fandral shrugged. "I can find what I really want easily. That saucy red-head that joined us for the luncheon looked spicy enough. Mayhaps I can make her scream for a few hours, and find some amusement there..." he tossed over his shoulder as he walked to the door.

He never made it out. The Mark VII popped out of a wall and formed itself around Stark, the man himself flying across the table even as several jaws dropped open at the audacious suggestion.

Tony tackled Fandral on the fly, both of them crashing through drywall. Fandral let a few of Tony's punches land before grabbing both gauntleted fists in his own and head-butting the furious superhero in the helmet.

**_"DO I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION NOW, STARK?"_** the swordsman bellowed. **_"YOU WISH TO DO BATTLE OVER ONE MAN'S WORDS AGAINST YOUR LADY? WHAT IF IT WASN'T ONE MAN? WOULD YOU STAND BY AND DO NAUGHT IF IT WAS A TROOP? AN ARMY? A PLANET?" _**

Tony's face-plate popped open, revealing his still-red, furious face, an erratic pulse throbbing over his temple. He finally seemed to comprehend what the Aesir had been saying, for he dropped his fists to his side, though he still shook from anger. A few moments later Bruce and Clint reached his sides, pulling him back from the chaos even as Thor and Volstagg reached Fandral.

"Are you well, friend?"Thor rumbled, even as Volstagg checked the swordmaster for damage.

"A schoolyard brawl, consider it naught," Fandral answered darkly. "The young fool had to see the error of his logic."

"T'was a deceitful, dastardly, crass, low, and dirty trick to pull on Stark," Loki said, wiping a tear out of an eye. "I find myself quite sentimental. I did not think he had it in him!"

"Nor I," said Hogun in wonder.

"Then you men have ne'er paid attention when Fandral attended a grand ball," Sif remarked dryly. "I have heard much worse from _that_ honeyed tongue after a few goblets of wine."

"I don't remember church being this interesting as a kid," Clint said wistfully, lounging at the mussed table.

"Me either," said Cap. "Even in Brooklyn, we had the sense to wait until the preacher was done to start trading shots!"

"Your priest would strike you for interrupting?" Tasha had been raised Russian Orthodox Catholic. The notion of a priest stopping his homily to correct rowdy boys was a shocking one.

"Nah," Cap replied, "he wouldn't. The Mother Superior, now, that was a different story. She was _wicked_ with a yardstick!"

The commotion was already dying down when Pepper Potts and Miss Sauer poked their heads in the ruined conference room doorway.

"Ummm," a distressed Pepper began, looking at the mess, "saving the world and other fine hobbies?"

"Something like that," Fury said dryly. He stretched lazily and glanced over at the two women. "Hello, Sauer. Don't suppose there's any JD in this place, is there?"

She shrugged non-committally. "Not sure. I think the boss only drinks McClellan or JD Blue, but I can look. The beer for tonight's dinner should be here any time, though."

"Thank God," Fury said, settling back in his chair. "The only thing missing from this brawl is a few drunken idiots."

Pepper tugged on Sauer's sleeve, and the pair disappeared into the hallway.

"Tony has been drinking Jack Daniels since the budget cuts went into effect last spring," she murmured to her assistant. "He never bothers to check what I fill the decanter with," she explained.

Sauer's eyes went wide. "Damn, Pepper, you do like to live dangerously!"

Pepper shrugged. "Somebody has to balance the checkbook around here."

Tempers cooled, beers quaffed, and the war conference resumed with a little more decorum. Talks turned to strategy, for while it was important to understand why Thanos sought the destruction of the Earth, it was more important to understand how he would accomplish it, where he would strike, and (most importantly) how to eliminate or kill him.

There, they were stuck. Even the long-lived Aesir were younger than Thanos by 2,000 years. Loki could tell them nothing of the creature's weaknesses; he had seen none in his time with the Mad Titan.

"Does he have blood?" Clint wanted to know. "If he does, can we bleed him to death? That's basic."

Loki grimaced. "We can assume bodily fluids of some kind, I suppose. Most living things have them..."

"Most?" Tasha was incredulous.

Loki shrugged. "The Karys Thyllynes are intelligent sculptures of hydrophilic salts: a most peaceful people. They do not strictly need water or fluids of any kind to live. Fluids merely make communication between individuals easier to accomplish."

Tasha's eyes widened. "Wow." She frowned suddenly. "Are you pulling my leg?

Loki only grinned. Thor rolled his eyes at him and sighed.

"As you were saying..." Sif prompted.

Loki sighed again. "The problem is getting close enough to Thanos' actual body to do significant damage. He is a much more accomplished dark sorcerer than I, and unrestrained, as I am."

Fandral stood up again, and Tony shot him a dark look. The swordsman held his hands out in a conciliatory gesture.

"Peace, Stark. I only wish to use the chamber-pot."

"Miss Sauer can direct you," Tony said evenly.

"I'll go, too," Clint offered. "I don't know if you've seen anything like Tony's fancy plumbing before."

Miss Sauer directed both men to the appropriate door, casting an anxious eye at the conference room.

"You guys aren't going to tear anything else up while you're here, are you?" she asked.

Fandral shook his head. "Worry not, lass. T'was just a necessary diversion to get Stark to look beyond his bias. He was being rather...how would you put it, Barton?"

"Ummm...a pigheaded bigot?"

"That sounds plausible." Fandral looked over the young woman's shoulder to the candy mobile hanging in the air, and frowned. "May I speak with you when we are done?" he asked the young secretary.

"Yes, that's fine. I'll be at my desk," she nodded blandly.

The men appeared a few moments later laughing about something and shaking water off their hands. Fandral slapped Barton on the back and excused himself.

"Hey, Annie," Clint said in greeting, knocking on her desk as he walked by.

She smiled in greeting only; Sauer was on the phone again.

"Yes, that will be fine. I will tell him myself at the first opportunity. Thank you, Doctor. Good day," she said, then looked up to where Fandral stood, grimly pondering the candies that rotated above her desk. "Is there something I can do for you, Sir Fandral?"

TBC


	10. What You Don't Believe

Fandral was a beautiful man: sculpted and lean, clean-shaven but for a stylish goatee that reminded her of the Robin Hood movies Sauer had loved as a child. His eyes caught every detail, sharp and penetrating, and he seemed to ooze sensuality with every move, every pose...

And it made her ill. He reminded her exactly of Biggess: Staff Sergeant Biggess with the smashing hands and the leering eyes. Biggess with his hands around her throat. Biggess with a S.C.U.D. missile poking through his chest...

_I'm not on board ship...Biggess is dead...I'm not on board ship...Biggess is dead..._

She repeated the mantra a few times to clear her head. Fandral was a friend and ally of Thor. She did not want to do or say anything that would alienate the giant who had come to save her planet.

"Sir Fandral?"

"Your given name is Anne?" He wasn't really looking at her; Fandral seemed fascinated by the candies rotating slowly above her desk.

Sauer shook her head. "No. That is a pet name of Barton's, and he is the only one who uses it."

The sculptured man looked down at her for a moment. "A pet name? Are the two of you..."

"No, we are not dating," she told him sincerely. "Agent Barton is merely a friend. Any affection he has towards me is like an older brother."

"Ah," he said, looking troubled. "Where did you get this?" He finally asked, swirling a calloused finger around one of the rotating candies.

She blinked. "Prince Loki made it out of the candies on my desk. He was illustrating the Nine Realms for me."

"Why?"

Sauer frowned. "I presume to help me understand the worlds better. Is there a problem?"

He smiled at her, tight-lipped. "Taken a fancy to our Dark Prince, have you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Sauer's eyebrows went up.

"Oh," he said casually, "I have seen how you speak to him, defer to him, act as if you are somehow friends..."

Sauer's brow crinkled. "You assume too much, Sir. The Prince and I are merely acquainted."

"He seems to favor you..."

"That's his business."

"I am concerned," he said darkly. "I have seen what happens to the Dark Prince's 'acquaintances' before. I would spare you the heartbreak."

"Heartbreak? Really? Sir Fandral, I," Sauer closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Let me see if I understand you correctly. Are you concerned that Prince Loki may try to _seduce_ me?" She gave the Aesir knight a beleaguered look.

"Yes."

"Because I have been polite in speaking with him."

"You make yourself vulnerable when you do so."

Sauer closed her eyes and groaned inwardly, frustrated. "How would you have me speak to a guest, Sir Fandral?" She opened her eyes and looked him square in the face. "Maybe Aesir customs are different from ours, I don't know. But here, someone in my position treats visitors with respect. I am not in a position to revile anyone while at my post, even if they are here as an enemy...or competition...as is often the case."

"You speak like a soldier, Lady Sauer..." He began, giving her a patronizing smile.

"I was one."

Fandral blinked at that. He never would have guessed the diminutive (to him, anyway) woman could carry a weapon, much less use one. "Was?"

She nodded. "I used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D.-Director Fury's military agency. I met his Majesty when he invaded Earth two years ago. He was incarcerated for a while on my ship."

"Then you know how dangerous he can be!" The blond Aesir warrior was starting to inflate, perhaps with indignation. Sauer couldn't tell. "How many of your people has he killed? How much damage has he done to your city, your planet?"

Sauer was getting impatient. "Is there a point to this lecture, Sir Fandral?"

"There is a _reason_ we call him Silvertongue. He is an _expert_ at deceit and manipulation. He will stop at nothing to gain what he wants, be it a kingdom, or a dark victory, or a night in a maid's bed. Do not _trust_ this man. Do not converse more than you must, and forget pretty words. He deserves none." Fandral's bitterness twisted his handsome face, and something clicked inside Sauer.

"Just how passive-aggressive would you have me be, Sir Fandral?" Sauer asked sternly.

It was Fandral's turn to wonder. "I do not understand your words, Lady Sauer."

"Passive-aggressive: cruel in small ways, hostility masquerading as jokes, resentment, and sullenness," she defined the term for him as best as she could. "I find it a cowardly approach when speaking to an opponent. I do not scold, like a scullery-maid, Sir. I was and am a fighting woman. "Only courteous words or hard knocks are my speech," one of our writers has said, and I live by that rule. I don't know what has happened in Asgard in the past two years-and I don't need to know-so don't elaborate." She held up a hand as he started to speak again. "As it is, your quest to protect my _virtue_ smacks on the hypocritical. I know a womanizer when I see one; don't try to deny it. Your eyes give you away. Let me assure you that _nothing_ romantic is brewing between Prince Loki and myself, and send you on your way. I have work I must tend, and you have a war conference in the next room." She stood and began to move from behind her desk, hoping he would take the dismissal and leave.

He didn't. Fandral actually snorted.

"Womanizer," he said dryly. "That explains your unease."

Sauer had reached the filing cabinet by that time and was rummaging in the top drawer for the form she needed. Her head snapped up when Fandral spoke again.

"What?"

"Your eyes give you away too, little maid. You are uneasy around me. One would think you did not enjoy having a man's eyes on you..."

"I don't enjoy being looked over as a piece of livestock, no. I find it insulting."

"There is no insult in your face, little one," the smirk he wore was maddening, patronizing. His mind obviously ran straight to the gutter. "I make you ill at ease, almost as if..."

"You remind me of someone," she finally admitted.

"Oh," Fandral said, obviously surprised. "An unfaithful suitor, perhaps?"

"No," she replied stiffly, "an enemy." She looked him deeply in the face. "You have his eyes, and some of his mannerisms. I find that...disturbing." She turned to go back to her desk, but found her path blocked by the giant Aesir. Sauer looked up, annoyed at first, but her annoyance turned to alarm when she saw the look on Fandral's face.

For a moment the swordsman reminded her of a _very_ pissed –off God of Thunder. She retreated a step, only to have Fandral close the distance just as quickly.

"I, who have done you no harm, am judged by the_ memory_ of another man who was your enemy. Meanwhile, you carry on like a giggling courtesan with the man who tried to _enslave_ your planet. And you have the gall to call me a cowardly hypocrite!"

Sauer's back was to a wall; she had nowhere else to go, and Fandral wasn't backing off. Indeed, the swordsman was right in her face, close enough to block any exit with his bulk alone, close enough for his natural musk to tease her nose. It would have been damned sexy if he wasn't scaring her half to death.

She caught one last look at his face, and then he closed that distance as well, his mouth to her ear as she whipped her head to one side.

"Womanizer," he breathed into her ear, "rake, debaucher, fornicator, libertine, lecher, roué, even satyr and drunkard: you're right, I am _all_ of these things. I have been for centuries, and am unlikely to change."

Sauer felt the muscles in his chest tighten, he was so close. He was _solid_. His tunic brushed against her cheek, and she desperately tried to squirm away, but his corded left arm slammed into the wall beside her shoulder. She raised her left hand to his shoulder, trying to push him away-even a little-but he grabbed her forearm and slammed it into the wall.

Sauer saw stars. Fandral had grabbed her burned arm, and squeezed it until the blister gave way with a _pop_ and soaked her sleeve.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., get the boss," she gasped, "_now_!"

Fandral didn't notice her distress. He was still ranting.

"Philanderer am I? True. I can drag you into a spare room and make you bless or _curse_ the day you were born a maid, depending on my mood," he growled. "It, and you, would mean _nothing_." His face pulled away just a little, so he could see her tear-streaked face. "But for all my faults, the Dark Prince makes me look like a bare-faced, blushing page. Do not _trust_ him, nor underestimate him, nor be _fooled_ by his smooth words and lulled into complacence..." he finally noticed his hand was wet, and scowled. "What is this?" He shifted his grip just a little...

Tearing apart some of the freshly-grown skin. Blood joined the blister fluid on Sauer's sleeve, and her head sagged back, a cry on her lips.

"So easily damaged," Fandral sighed, "all I meant was to warn..."

Fandral inhaled suddenly, and his right hand tightened on Sauer's arm again. Something like ice seemed to _zing_ down his spine, and the giant swordsman stiffened, back arching as if in pain.

It only lasted a second. When Fandral looked down at Sauer again, his irises had disappeared. His pupils had dilated to the point of wiping them out. His breathing hitched once, and his smile had...changed.

**"Warn you? Yes, I suppose the humans should be warned."** Fandral's voice had changed, too, going down at least 5 octaves until the furnishings in the room shook. **"So fragile, so easily broken, so prone to vice. You should have knelt when you had the chance. Humans...so pathetic...galactic vermin compared to the greater races...breeding like rats but with an arrogance that rivals the Aesir."** Fandral's left hand went to Sauer's throat, and it felt like ice. **"Bow, human, then take a message to your masters. Only then may you ****_die_****."**

Stark Industries didn't allow lethal weapons on the premises, but allowed Sauer to be armed while at her desk. Stark had learned a lot from Obadiah. Sauer grabbed the stun gun she always wore under her jacket, pressed the tip to Fandral's underarm, and pulled the trigger.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ 

Conversation in the conference room had revolved around traditional weaponry, as well as what magical upgrades the Aesir could manage. Thanos was a threat to all the Nine, Odin had decided, and the line had to be drawn at Midgard.

"It's a pity we can't get support from some of these other realms," Fury said thoughtfully. "Do you think we will have time to at least send emissaries?"

"A sensible idea," Thor rumbled. "You will have to find people skilled in tactful negotiations. Perhaps my father can supply translators as well," he added thoughtfully.

"Translators?" Hawkeye asked.

"When doing business in another realm, it is considered polite to speak in the realm's home tongue," Loki said dryly. "Insist that they speak in yours and they may well show you the back side of the Bifrost."

"Your pardon for interrupting, Mr. Stark," J.A.R.V.I.S. broke in, "Miss Sauer urgently requests your immediate assistance in the foyer."

Stark frowned and stood up. "Situation, J.A.R.V.I.S.?" he asked, heading for the conference room door.

"She appears to be having a scuffle with Sir Fandral."

"Damn," growled Thor, slamming his fist on the table and jumping to his feet. Loki scowled and jumped up as well, and the room seemed to clear.

Tony Stark hit the foyer in time to see Fandral take Sauer by the throat and growl something in her ear. The crowd behind him saw the giant Aesir jerk suddenly backwards and drop to the floor, Sauer's stun gun going _click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click_ as it pumped voltage into the swordsman's body. Sauer, her face tear-streaked and her left arm a dripping mess, sagged backwards into the wall and crumpled to the floor. Fandral's soul-less eyes turned towards the crowd, and his mouth opened as if to scream, before he too went limp.

_Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click _went the stun gun. Having pulled the trigger, Sauer didn't seem to be able to let go.

"What the hell is going on?" shouted Stark.

People were still pouring into the room. "Annie!" shouted Barton, running to his friend's side.

A blue ball of light glowed momentarily at the spot where the stun gun electrodes burned Fandral's skin, and suddenly the ball moved backward, up the wires, to enter Sauer's gun hand. The stun gun shut off.

"Barton, NO!" Loki shouted. "GET AWAY!"

Barton, crouched by Sauer's unresponsive form, snarled up at Loki. "Don't tell me what to do! She's my..." his sentence ended in an "ack".

Sauer _levitated_ up, her good hand on Barton's throat and her eyes...gone.

**"Human sympathies,"** she growled in a deep voice not her own, **"how pathetic. You should listen to your ****_master_****, little bird. Perhaps I should put you in a cage, and see if you will sing for me..."**

Tasha drew her wrist-knives, preparing to throw them into Sauer's heart, but found the blades bending backwards...towards her chest..._and she couldn't stop them_.

**"How typical of arachnids,"** the deep voice sneered, **"dripping with poison, ready to sacrifice their own mates, their own comrads, for their own agenda. Kill my host, will you? Do you think that will hurt ****_me_****? ****_I, who lived when your ancestors grubbed in the dirt? Learn what power is, and die, little spider!"_**

Fury grabbed Natasha's flick-knives out of her hands and buried them in the dry-wall. Thanos-within-Sauer snarled, and then threw Barton across the room to smash into them both.

**"Have your toys, then, while you can. They will help you naught."**

"**THANOS**," Thor bellowed. "**RELEASE THE MAID, AND BY ODIN** **FACE ME YOURSELF!" **Mjolnir crackled in his fist as he stomped towards the possessed woman, the floor shaking beneath him.

He never made it.

An evil leer spread across Sauer's face, and her eyes, soulless before, were absolute chasms now. Her complexion started to darken.

"**That's right, Son of Odin: smash what you cannot hope to deal with.** **You NEVER LEARN!" **Sauer's body moved towards the Thunder God, and she raised a twisted hand.

Thor stopped walking suddenly, back arched in agony. He tried to bring Mjolnir to bear, but suddenly dropped it from nerveless fingers and was smashed once, twice, three times into the ceiling, then suspended there, his cape and blond hair dangling.

**"Kill my servants, break my Kurse, but know this, blond fool, you cannot take me! Run home to papa, little prince! FOOL! What is the House of Odin but a hut of bastards who revel in debauchery and drink, stealing other realm's women and babes, and slaying family members in their lust for power? What is Odin but an ale-sodden old man teetering on a throne that his brats tussle over?"**

The soulless eyes turned to Loki. **"Still wearing your pretty skin, I see. My offer still stands, boy. Leave those who would chain you like a dog, or choose to stay and be their hound. Like son, like father! But at least be yourself!"**

The hand that had pinned Thor to the ceiling dropped him with a crash, turned to Loki, and made a clawing motion. He changed. Pale skin deepened to dark blue, raised up with tattoo-like runes wherever cloth did not touch his skin, and Loki's eyes turned blood-red. The Dark Prince stiffened with the influx of magic; he resisted the changed even as it ran over him, crumpling to his knees.

**"Choose your ways and perish, all of you. All the realms shall burn! Death shall reign in victory, and none shall..."**

**"ENOUGH," **bellowed Captain Rogers, **"BE SILENT, AND COME OUT OF HER!"**

**"Little boy," **the creature snarled**, "in over your head. Sit back and let real gods deal with the fate of the world!"**

**"IN NOMEN DE PATRIS , ET FILIUS, ET SPIRITUS SANCTUS , EGO TO ORDER VOS EXSISTO SILENS ET EGRESSUS!"**Captain Rogers bellowed.

The Captain was always a courteous warrior, apologetic to a fault, something that had amused Tony Stark no end. There was _nothing_ apologetic about the man that faced down the beast inside Tony's foyer, nothing between him and the possessed woman-not even his shield.

The beast snarled.

Cap made the sign of the cross in the air between himself and Sauer's body.

**"EGRESSUS!" **he bellowed again.

Sauer's eyes widened even further.

She shrieked once, arms spreading in a mock crucifixion as she levitated higher.

**"EGRESSUS!"**

Her back spasmed once, then Sauer's body toppled forward and dropped like a stone. Captain Rogers caught her easily, like a doll, and he cradled her like a child.

"What the everlasting fuck was that?" Tony Stark snarled.

"That, boy, is what you don't believe in," Cap snarled back, turning towards the elevator. "She needs a jacuzzi _now_, hot shot. She's freezing to death in my arms."

"My suite, next floor up," the shaken billionaire said. He turned to the rest of his guests. "Anybody else? I want a drink."


	11. Jacuzzi

"Hold on," called Dr. Banner, "let me in with you. The water can't be too hot, or you'll kill her for sure..."

Dr. Banner ducked into the elevator with Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, the former still cradling the unconscious secretary. The doors closed on them, leaving the rest of the company in stunned silence.

"Thank you, Director," Tasha finally said softly.

"Anytime," the older man nodded stiffly.

"Thor?" Sif called uncertainly, stepping around Loki's crouched form to approach the fallen prince, "Thor, can you..."

"Sif: STOP." Loki commanded: his voice crackling with authority. The raven-haired goddess came to a halt, but turned glaring eyes to the Dark Prince.

He scowled. "Did you learn _nothing _from Barton? Thanos may not yet be gone. Stand aside."

The female warrior took a deep breath and stepped back. Loki flexed once and rose.

Stuck in his Jotnar form, Loki now stood a head higher than the rest of the Aesir in the room, and his torso bulked out in a similar fashion. Fury thought he looked like a smaller, bluer version of the Hulk, only with red eyes, clothing, and a regal manner.

The alien prince stepped over first to Fandral, who was starting to stir, and then to Thor, who likewise groaned from his position on the floor. Crouching over each man's face in turn, Loki held one chained hand over the mouth, while the other traced sigils in the air. Satisfied with the magic, he held a quick hand to each man's chest.

"They are free," he finally announced, "but need tending. Volstagg, Hogun," he commanded, "take Fandral upstairs to Stark's warming chamber. The beast was not in him as long as it was in the girl, but I like neither his complexion nor his temperature. I will take Thor," he announced. "Lady Sif, he will want to see you when he wakes, and Lady Sauer may need you as well."

So saying, Jotnar-Loki crouched down and rolled Thor onto his side. He then single-handedly pulled Thor's bulk onto his own shoulder in a fireman's carry...

And stood up.

No mean feat, considering the God of Thunder weighed nearly 800 lbs.

"Loki?" Fury's tone was uncertain, a first for him.

"What is it, Fury?" Loki sounded very much like a royal prince at this point: calculating, commanding, and austere. He glared at the commander from under his bundle of Thor. Mjolnir lay where it had dropped on the floor, unmoving.

"Thor took a fall from 30,000 feet the last time you were here. What makes you concerned about him now?" The military commander was suddenly wary.

"A _seiðkarl's_ attack is more damaging than physical warfare, commander. It tears at the mind as well as the body. Thor and Fandral both lost consciousness: a bad sign. Thanos could well have taken Thor as his next host, given his present weakened state."

"But not Fandral?" Fury was helping both Barton and Romonov to their feet.

"Possible, but not likely. Thanos prefers to violate a new mind each time. It spreads the misery out wider." Loki turned towards the nearest elevator, still carrying Thor. "I do not fear for Fandral's health. Sauer is another matter. Because she is mortal, even with the exorcism, she may yet perish, unless your Captain has more unexpected _seiðure. _One can always hope, I suppose." Loki held up a spare hand. "Next lift, please, Commander. This one is already at its weight limit." He nodded to the sign.

"Right. See you upstairs." Barton groaned behind Fury, and the tall black man turned his attention to the archer. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. What's that the blue guy said about Annie?"

"Never mind. We have to get upstairs. Romonov?"

"I'm good," she spared a glance at the knives buried in the wall, "but I don't think I'm ever going to use those again."

"Probably a good idea." Fury grabbed a piece of paper, wrote DO NOT TOUCH with a large black marker, and stuck the sign on one of the knives. "That ought to hold things until Loki can tell us if they are safe to use or not."

"Sir," Tasha said hesitantly, "why are we taking orders from Loki, now?"

"Finish this phrase, Agent Romonov: 'the enemy of my enemy...'"

"Ah. Of course."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"J.A.R.V.I.S., what is the current temperature of my Jacuzzi?" Tony had pulled the cover off and turned on the jets, and a friendly steam filled the room.

"I read it at 40 degrees Centigrade, sir," the AI replied.

"Too hot," Banner shook his head. "The shock will kill Mouse for sure."

Tony looked at Bruce questioningly. "Mouse? Where did you come up with 'Mouse'?"

Dr. Banner shrugged. "I don't know. It just seemed to fit. She's never complained." He looked around. "J.A.R.V.I.S., can you get a temperature reading on Mou...Miss Sauer?"

"A chilly 30 degrees Centigrade, Dr. Banner."

"Can you lower the temperature of the Jacuzzi to 31 degrees centigrade? We have a moderately hypothermic patient who needs immersion," the doctor asked the AI.

"The warming coils are already shut down, Doctor, but cooling the bath is beyond my function. If it must be done immediately, I would suggest adding a large quantity of ice," the AI replied smoothly.

"Who needs ice?" Loki called as he stepped off the elevator, still carrying Thor across his shoulders. "And where can I put him?"

"Holy Avatar," Stark muttered, then shook himself. "Point Break can go on the sofa to your left. He's been here before, so I had it reinforced," Stark replied.

Loki nodded and carefully lowered the groaning Thor onto the sofa, then turned to the trio of men who stared-slack jawed-at the change in the younger Aesir prince. He sighed.

"My Jotnar form, gentlemen..."

"Jotnar," Banner asked?

"You know it as 'Frost Giant'. I can't change back for some reason, though I can still self-regulate. For what do you need ice?" He stalked over to where Captain Rogers still cradled Sauer, and passed a hand over her face. "Fascinating," he murmured.

"The tub," Captain Rogers replied, "it's currently too hot for Miss Sauer. If we put her in now the shock will finish her."

"I see." Loki looked down at the steaming water. "Current temperature?"

"Sauer is at 30 degrees Centigrade: normal is 36.6 degrees. The tub registers 40 degrees; it needs to be 31 and gradually warming up from there," Dr. Banner said crisply.

Loki nodded. "Give me a moment, will you?" He tensed for a moment, and magically disrobed, his armor and undergarments disappearing into mist.

Tony Stark cringed and threw a hand in front of his face. "Oh, god: Full Frontal Frost Giant! I'm gonna need therapy," he moaned.

Loki looked at the steaming tub and scowled. This was going to _hurt_...

He leaped into the tub, roaring once with the shock, and began projecting ice away from his body in waves. The tub's jets quickly spread the change in temperature, and within minutes the water had cooled significantly. Loki's skin returned to its 'normal' pale Aesir hue with the stabilization, but blue could still be seen to ripple down his arms and across his face.

"Give me the girl," he commanded Rogers, and when the Captain hesitated he snapped "_NOW_, Captain! Join me after you hand her over, but get her in the water!"

More elevator doors were opening. Captain Rogers shrugged, then crouched down and handed the unconscious Sauer to the mostly-submerged God of Mischief. She cried out once as her torso hit the water, but otherwise did not wake. Steve quickly stripped to his underwear and lowered himself into the swirling water, earning a scathing look from Loki.

"Really, Captain, so modest? Surely you aren't shy about your physique?"

"Shyness has nothing to do with it," Cap shook his head. "I'm not in _any_ kind of relationship with Sauer to make nudity in her presence appropriate. That's why I hesitated: she'd be horrified if she woke up in your arms with you naked."

Loki was surprised. "A _nudity_ taboo? In this culture?

"For some of us, yes."

"Hmm. I had no idea." Loki handed Sauer over to the partially submerged Captain. "Your body temperature is higher than mine right now," he explained, "and I need to adjust myself." So saying, he concentrated his gaze into the water for a moment. "There, that should take care of any modesty complaints."

"You can just 'poof' clothing?" It was Rogers' turn to be surprised.

"Sorcerer," Loki reminded him.

"Ah."

"Speaking of sorcery, that was an impressive display downstairs. I've seen similar exorcisms take days, and _that_ with a mage as experienced as the All-Father. Sometimes the victim still dies. I wasn't aware you had any instruction in _seiðure_."

"Seiðure?"

"Magic, sorcery."

"I don't," Rogers replied. He frowned; Loki had removed Sauer's jacket and was busy removing the left sleeve of her blouse. "What are you doing?"

"Examining her arm. The lady burned it a few of your weeks ago, and I suspect Fandral re-injured it when he grabbed her...ah, yes, he did." Loki scowled. "Down deep, too." He looked up at Volstagg and Hogun, who were actively undressing Fandral. "Down just to the breeches, gentlemen: _this_ planet has a nudity taboo!"

Hogun looked up at Steve Rogers, surprised. "You do?"

Steve raised his eyebrows back. "You don't?"

"It's for my secretary's sake, boys," Stark explained. "She doesn't need any more surprises today."

"Sensible," nodded Volstagg, "her condition is delicate."

"Something about her has to be," muttered Tony. He missed the glare Loki shot at him.

Pepper chose that moment to run in from the service elevator. "I came as soon as I could, Tony, what happened?" Her eyes widened at the sight of several half-naked Aesir –and one Avenger-moving about in the sunken Jacuzzi. "You're having a pool party? _That's_ the big emergency?" She gave Tony a scathing look. "You know the only Avenger I want to see marinating in that pool is you," she chided.

For once, Tony didn't crack a smile. He pulled Pepper aside and explained what had happened, and her eyes gradually widened in horror. She spared a glance at the group in the water, finally seeing Sauer for the first time. "Poor kid," she whispered. "Do you think she'll be all right?"

Tony only shrugged. "We won't know until she wakes up," he admitted.

"I'll get some towels," Pepper said, scowling worriedly, "and some bathrobes."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Thor groaned and opened his eyes. Sif carefully brushed the hair out of his face.

"How fare you, Thor?"

"Uhhh. Do you recall the time the Warriors Three and I did box with the Stone Giant of Gyllenholl?" Thor cracked open one _very_ bloodshot eye as he spoke.

Sif nodded. "Aye. He pile up the three of you like spent corn-cobs at a summer's feast, with you on the bottom. You were quiet, sensible men for a fortnight after."

"And Volstagg on my head," Thor murmured. He hesitated a moment. "In retrospect, t'was but a tussle betwixt friends, compared to this." His eyes snapped open. "Fandral...Stark's maid...what..."

"Peace, Thor, the beast is gone," Sith soothed. "It has been cast out."

"Good," Thor murmured. "Loki has done well this day..."

"T'was not Loki who vanquished the beast," Sif informed him, shaking her head. "T'was your blond friend from Midgard, the one you call a Captain. He drove the Mad Titan out with but a few words!"

Thor's bloodshot eyes opened wide. "I must speak to him about this; mayhap he can teach us all such _seiðure._" He made to rise, but Sif held him down with a hand to the chest.

"Half a moment, Thor. Your friend the Captain tends Stark's maid. Tell me, Oh Prince: How many fingers do I hold up?" Sif held up her index finger under her chin.

"Two, of course. The sign here means 'victory'. Now I must..." Thor tried to get up again, but Sif shoved him stoutly back onto the couch.

"Lay back down, Thor, lest I have Volstagg come over and sit on thee!"

"Conniving wench. That be cheating."

"Aye."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Loki had magically sliced away the remains of Sauer's sleeve and was scowling at the wound underneath. Fandral's careless act had removed a great deal of new skin, and the result was ugly and raw.

"Hogun," he called to the silent, half-naked warrior supporting the unconscious Fandral, "please tell me you brought some _Ilmsmyrsl brenna _with you."

"Aye, I did," he grunted, "'tis in the satchel on my belt."

"I'll fetch it," Volstagg rumbled. "You have your hands full already."

"Nothing new there," Hogun groused.

Fandral had already started to stir as the water warmed up. "Odin's Beard," he groaned, "what have I been drinking?"

Hogun cocked an eyebrow at Loki. "He's well enough, I deem."

"We shall see soon enough," Loki said grimly. "He needs to account for his actions before his possession." The Dark Prince turned back to Captain Rogers, who still cradled the unconscious Sauer. "But I would still have an accounting of your exorcism of the beast, Captain, since you say t'was not sorcery you employed."

Steve shrugged. "I don't know how to explain it to you, except that it wasn't magic." He paused to brush some of Sauer's hair out of her eyes, and shifter her form in his arms. She was starting to shiver, even with the water comfortably warm. "I simply gave it an order it could not refuse."

Loki frowned thoughtfully. "Not magic, then. An order...based on the authority of the names you invoked." He busied himself removing Sauer's pants (but not her underwear) and began massaging her feet to promote circulation.

"Yes."

"Hmmm. Could you teach us, so we may do the same thing the next time Thanos appears?"

Steve shook his head. "That's been tried before. If you try to invoke the name of my God without worshipping Him, the demon will hand you your balls." He frowned for a moment. "I could technically learn your language, but any order I gave in Odin's name wouldn't carry any weight with your troops," he explained. "It would be worse if I tried to threaten Odin's enemies."

Loki nodded thoughtfully. "You would seem a blustering fool." He frowned. "We are at another impasse, then. Are there others of this faith that can do similar things?"

"Yes. I'm only a soldier, after all: not a priest."

"Interesting. Can you ward the building?"

Rogers frowned. "I don't understand."

"As a courtesy, Odin cast certain enchantments about Stark's property to guard against magical attack, so we could take counsel in safety. The Mad Titan was able to push past all that, somehow, despite Odin's defenses."

"Hmmm, no, _I_ can't do that, but I _think_," Steve nodded, "I _think _I know someone who _can_. I'll call him when I get out of here."

"Advisable." Volstagg handed Loki a small vial, and the prince began applying the dark paste it held to the wound on Sauer's arm. When it was covered he circled the air around her arm, muttering something Steve couldn't understand, and then lowered the arm into the water. "Better than a wrap," he explained, "magical seals don't get wet and need changed."

Fandral groaned again and shook himself, finally waking. He looked around the Jacuzzi dazedly, and when his eyes lit on the unconscious Sauer his face hardened.

"Weak little thing," he murmured. "Will she live?"

"I have faith," Captain Rogers answered, stroking Sauer's hair back again, "though the damage you did to her arm was considerable. Care to tell me what exactly you were doing out there?" Rogers glared coldly at the recovering Aesir, who snorted.

"Not trying to bed her, if that is your concern," Fandral answered coldly. "I have standards, after all. I merely tried to pass along some...friendly advice...concerning our Dark Prince." He frowned. "The wound to her arm was accidental, I assure you."

"It was _careless_," Loki snarled. "You are a warrior of Asgard; expected to pay attention to the welfare of its citizens and allies, not just their _brjóst og sitjandi_."

"_You_ lecture _me_ about others' welfare?" Fandral snorted, pulling himself higher in the tub. "That is almost laughable. And I assure you, the maid's..._assets_...are quite unremarkable, barely worth a mortal's second glance, much less _one_ of mine."

"I said as much of the Lady Marian some 700 years ago, boy, and you challenged me to a duel," Volstagg countered angrily, his eyes flashing. "You insult the maid with such talk, and she has done you no harm."

"What do you call this sorceress burn under my arm, then?" Fandral huffed.

"From the sound of it, 'well deserved'," snapped Tony Stark. "You're an **ass**; and _that's_ coming from _me_!"

Fandral fell silent, outnumbered.

"Do you remember anything _useful_?" Sif finally spoke up from where she sat next to Thor. "We know the Mad Titan took you for a while, before moving into Stark's maid."

The soaking Aesir scowled. "Not much," he admitted, "I only caught snatches: prisoners, wailing, another planet-not this one. He stops to...feed...and outfit his army...before coming here. The sorceress burn," he frowned even deeper, "we both felt it. It...it hurt him, I think. He left me to attack it, or its wielder."

"So, he can feel pain," Fury said, coming in off the elevator with Clint and Tasha. "Good."

Still in Captain Rogers' arms, Sauer let out a moan...

And opened her eyes. She looked at Fury, then around at the half-naked men in the tub with her, and blinked, dazed.

_"Mimi ni wafu?"_


	12. Awakening

"Mimi ni wafu?" Sauer repeated again, looking questioningly at Captain Rogers. "Kwa sababu kama hii ni wafu, basi, ingawa amekufa ni kukubalika kwangu. Hii ni bora kuliko ..." She looked around again, blushing hard when she realized exactly who was rubbing her feet, and how little _he_ actually had on. She looked down at what was left of her own clothing, and her eyes got _wider_.** "****_AAAACK!"_** she squealed, yanking her foot away from Loki and jumping away from Captain Rogers at the same time. She tried to curl up into a ball, but only managed to submerge herself in the process. Rogers pulled her back up by the armpits, sputtering, and helped her find the seating area, where she resumed a fetal position.

"Relax, Sauer," Captain Rogers tried to reassure her, "you were hypothermic after the possession. We put you in here to raise your body temperature back up."

Sauer gave him a look that suggested he had two heads.

Loki, for his part, just looked amused. "I think a few towels are in order, Stark," he called out, "and a robe for the maid." So saying, he nimbly jumped out of the Jacuzzi, his tight green underpants morphing into a flowing green robe. He slicked his hair back and shook his head a few times, his hair magically drying. "Fortunately for me, I brought my own."

Sauer was only two feet away from Loki's backside when he pulled his this trick, and she blanched, like she had swallowed something too large. "Asante, Sherwin Williams!" she said, shaking her head. She looked up at Captain Rogers again. "Hivyo...si wafu?"

Captain Rogers frowned down at her, and then looked up at Tony Stark. "What's with your secretary?"

Tony frowned. "Beats me. Pepper?"

Pepper Potts had already reached the side of the Jacuzzi, and was offering Sauer a large towel and a hand up. Sauer's nervous glance to the other side of the tub told her everything, and the executive glared at Fandral until he turned his face away.

"Like there be aught to see," he muttered.

Hogun smacked him on the back of the head. "Hold your tongue, you rogue."

"Sauer," Pepper said gently, "can you understand me?" She tried to guide the shaking woman to a chair, but had to get help from Tasha; Sauer was still very unstable. "Say something, please."

"Pepper," Sauer was starting to panic, "Nini kinatokea? Nini ni vibaya?"

"What?" asked Tasha.

"Nini kinatokea? Kwa nini si mtu yeyote kuzungumza Kiingereza?" Sauer started to stand up again, shaking harder, but was held down by Pepper and Tasha. "Nini kilitokea? Nini ni vibaya kwa kila mtu?"

"Hakuna kitu kibaya," soothed Dr. Banner, handing the shaking woman a large glass of warm juice. "Hapa, kunywa. Shhhh, kunywa."

Stark looked at Sauer like _she_ had grown an extra head. "Doc? You wanna enlighten the rest of us?"

Banner sighed. He had quickly taken Sauer's brachial pulse and checked her temperature and her eye dilation: her temp was a little low, but everything else seemed fine. "I spent about a year in Kenya working as a medic. She's speaking Swahili, but doesn't seem to understand English. Oddly enough, _she_ thinks _we_ are speaking another language, and that _she_ is speaking English!"

"Great. Just great," muttered Tony. "The Earth is about to be invaded again, the _entire_ Avengers Assembly had a supernatural smackdown, I have a naked Frost Giant in my tower, and my secretary's head is now on another _continent_. Can this get any worse?" He reached for a bottle of whisky. "Can you translate for us, Doc?"

Doctor Banner shrugged. "I think so. She asked if she was dead-a few times-and when she got a better look at her-_surroundings_-decided that dead was alright with her." He smiled. "Apparently the _view_ was better than wherever she was before. She thanked Sherwin Williams-for what I don't know-"

"For painting Loki's underwear on his ass," Tasha rolled her eyes at the doctor. "He gave her quite a shot getting out of the tub!"

"That doesn't explain why she's speaking Swahili," Clint finally chimed in from a window-ledge. His throat was slowly turning blue with Sauer's finger-marks, and he frowned at his young friend, who still shook underneath her robe and towels.

"She just had her brain scrambled by an inter-galactic bad-ass," Tony said over a tumbler of amber liquid. "I suppose we should be glad she can actually speak," he took a sip and glanced at the young woman, "not to mention breath. Did she speak Swahili before this, Patch?"

Fury scowled at the billionaire. "Not to my knowledge. SHIELD encourages poly-language proficiency, of course, but I don't recall any Bantu languages from her file."

"J.A.R.V.I.S., would you give us a background check on Miss Sauer, please? Specify language studies until she came to work for me." Tony called out.

"Certainly, sir. Miss Sauer is fluent in English, and has a working knowledge of Low German and Mexican Spanish, both from secondary school. Language studies during her stint with S.H.I.E.L.D. focused on both High and Low German."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Proficiency with Low German would suggest practice outside of the classroom, sir," the AI replied. "Sauer has used some...interesting German metaphors during trying days in R&D."

"Haven't we all," sighed Stark.

"Her paternal grandparents live in Germany," Barton volunteered. "They keep in touch by phone."

"That still doesn't explain the sudden appearance of a language she _never_ spoke before," said Dr. Banner. "Your people running any unauthorized bio-feedback or mental stimulation experiments we need to know about, Director?" He tossed that last question over his shoulder as he squatted down in front of the shaking woman again. "Wewe kuumiza mahali popote?"

"What are you asking her now?" Pepper asked.

"If she hurts anywhere," the doctor replied evenly. "Even if she doesn't, we should order a CAT scan and an MRI, just to be certain."

Sauer closed her eyes for a minute and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Kichwa yangu machungu; kuwa ni wote." She sighed, shaking her head. "Na mimi ni wa baridi. Naweza kuwa na baadhi ya mavazi, tafadhali?"

"Kwamba ni nzuri, na ndiyo. Tasha itakusaidia kupata nguo," Banner replied. He looked up at the small group of humans. "She says just her head hurts, and she is cold and would like some clothing. I suggested Tasha would help her," he gave a knowing glance at the red-headed assassin. "She'll be safe enough with you, won't she?"

The red-head gave the doctor an annoyed glance. "Of course. Pepper, do you think we can find something for Sauer to wear?"

Pepper nodded. "I already have clothing ordered and on the way," the CEO answered. "Let's take her into one of the spare bedrooms."

Tasha put a hand on Sauer's arm. "Sauer?" The young woman looked up at the hardened assassin, who motioned with her head that they were to leave.

Sauer blinked, and then nodded. "Да, уверенный. Спасибо, Tasha."

Natasha Romonov's mouth opened...and snapped shut. "Вы говорите на русском языке?"

Sauer's face wrinkled up again with worry. "Номер. Я - говорение по-английски, то же самое как Вы!"

Stark put down his glass and walked over. "Now what?"

"Fluent Russian," Tasha answered stiffly, standing up, "and she still thinks she's speaking English."

"Well, crap," muttered Tony.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Loki rapidly resumed his Jotun form after exiting the Jacuzzi, a green silk bathrobe morphing out to cover most of his nakedness as he walked over to check on Thor.

"How is he?" the dark blue prince asked Sif, who stiffened as he approached.

"He wakes, but is seeing double," she replied curtly. "He recalled the boxing match with the stone giant of Gyllenhol as a comparison."

Loki nodded. "I remember: Volstagg ended up sitting on Thor's head. We should see if aught of these windows open so he can summon Mjolnir; that would set him right again."

"Why not..." Sif began, but Loki cut her off.

"Because these windows are magically and physically reinforced," Loki snarled. "I have no doubt Mjolnir could punch its way through, but the consequences would include flying shards that would decapitate and disembowel any in the room. Is that what you wish for your allies?"

Sif glared at him, but fell silent.

"Thor," Loki called, "can you hear me?"

"Aye, brother," Thor murmured, "I can, and I could use a drink." He cracked open a very bloodshot eye. "Why are you still blue?"

"I do not know. Some foul magic of Thanos', no doubt. Fandral recovers as well, and the maid Sauer finally wakes. She seems a little disoriented, but not harmed other than that."

"I would say differently," Volstagg rumbled, walking over from where Hogun and Fandral dressed. "Fandral seems...changed. His attitude and words towards the maid are reprehensible. I've not ever seen him act like this in all the centuries of our acquaintance. You know the rogue's tongue, it rivals Loki's when he is around women, whether fair or plain," he explained. "But suddenly all his smoothness has disappeared, and he speaks ill of the maid, though she has done naught to deserve it."

"What do you mean, old friend?" Thor had raised himself to a sitting position, and he frowned at the older Aesir, as did both Loki and Sif.

Volstagg frowned. "Fandral openly insults the maid's looks and form, and within her hearing, no less. I've ne'er heard such petty speech, especially from this womanizing mongrel. He has courted and bedded women with far fewer...attractive features...and has not spoken so about them, not even when they were no longer present. T'is not like him. There be something amiss, I deem."

Loki nodded, thoughtfully. "He brushed off the hurt he gave her arm, as well." Thor gave him a questioning look, so Loki explained what he knew of Sauer's burn and the injury Fandral had done to the healing skin. "He shrugged it off as an accident."

"Possible," said Sif, frowning, "but remarkably careless, even for him."

"And he had little to offer in observation from his time with Thanos," Loki added darkly, "just a few glimpses and snatches of sound, and this from a renowned Aesir warrior. Either he grows careless, or suddenly he does not _wish_ to see."

"Or perhaps," Sif murmured thoughtfully, "he does not wish to remember." She frowned and looked at Loki fully for the first time that day. "You were in Thanos' presence. How would you describe it?"

"I was with him a year, and each moment was an eternity of madness and pain, not to be forgotten," Loki said coldly. "But you would know that from my account to the All-Father, _Tyresdottir_. Fandral spent a few moments with the beast, and came out a weaker man, and suddenly it is real for you?"

"Mayhap I can trust the _Sannurblaðson_ better than the _Laufeyson_," Sif snapped back.

"This bickering helps naught," Thor said sternly. He shoved off Sif's restraining hands and sat up, scowling. "Each of you blames the other for matters not of their choosing; I expect more maturity from you both, especially after all this _time_," he growled. "Thanos is real enough, and his foulness is well known. If Fandral be compromised so easily we are all in grave peril. This damage must be dealt with, and a guard of some sort found out." He put his head in his hands for a moment and sighed. "Has the maid spoken yet? Thanos had her for longer-she may know a bit more than Fandral." He looked up at Loki expectantly.

Loki shrugged. "A few words only. She seemed surprised to be alive, and thanked someone named Sherwin Williams, though there was none by that name in Thanos' camp when I was there. She may be hallucinating."

"She be speaking now," Thor said, glancing across the room, "and somewhat distressed, as are her comrades-in-arms."

"I am surprised she lives," Loki admitted. "Perhaps these Midgardians are tougher than I had thought."

"You just now figure that? After the drubbing they gave thee?" Thor shook his head. "Loki, you are a clever man, but sometimes slow in the simplest things. Do not take physical fragility for inferiority. Was it not such a misjudgment we made with you?"

Loki looked at Thor, the surprise evident in his eyes for a heartbeat. He opened his mouth and shut it again before nodding. "It was," he finally said, nodding.

The topic ended with the sudden approach of Dr. Banner. "Guys, we seem to have a problem with Miss Sauer," the Hulk's Other admitted.

"How does she fare?" Thor asked.

Dr. Banner shrugged. "Physically she's fine: a little shaken up, but that's to be expected."

"Has she spoken yet?"

"That's the problem," sighed the doctor. "She can speak, all right, just not in English-her native language, I mean. She seems to switch languages every time she blinks, and rarely is it something we understand."

Thor and Loki exchanged a look. "How many thus far?" Thor asked.

"Five. She started with Swahili-an African Bantu dialect, then switched to Russian, then Irish-Gaelic, then Italian, and finally French. Each time she _thinks_ she is speaking English, but does not understand a word _of_ it." Banner ran a hand through his hair. "I've heard of similar cases using electric shock, but only when the replacement language is something the subject has studied. Sauer hasn't been exposed to most of these. Could this be some side effect of the possession?"

"Unlikely," Loki admitted, frowning. "Thanos usually leaves his victims brain damaged or dead. This is almost..."

"Let me speak to her," Thor said suddenly, walking across the room. Loki followed him. "Garb yourself, brother," the blond giant said, "there be women and children present."

"You take the fun out of everything," Loki groused, but morphed his robe into garments.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sif made to follow the princes, but a large hand on her arm stopped her.

"A moment, Lady Sif," rumbled Volstagg quietly.

Her dark ponytail whipped around as she turned. "What is it, Volstagg?" she asked fiercely.

"You need to stop blaming Loki for being what he is," the older Aesir said discreetly.

Sif huffed indignantly. "What...a liar? A trickster? Those are _choices_, Volstagg. Choices have _consequences_..."

"But he didn't choose to be _Jotun_, any more than you chose to be Aesir. Yes, Loki is the God of Lies, but that does not mean he _invented_ them. You have made a few..._choices_...over the centuries as well, Sif. Are you happy with the consequences now? Or would you rather pretend it never happened?"

Sif squared her shoulders and took a nervous breath. "I don't know what you mean..."

"I be not Heimdall," the older man said sternly, "but I vouchsafe you know _exactly_ what I mean. Did you really think Thor would never find out?"

Sif looked stricken. "Volstagg, please...do not..."

"Peace, child. He did not hear it from me, nor from any other of the Three. But the Valholl walls have ears, you know. And there are some things that brothers do...not...share." There was no condemnation in Volstagg's eyes, but Sif still felt a knife in her soul. "Reviling him _now_ for what he did not know _then_ will not make a difference. You still made the choice."

"All the trysts Thor has had over the years...and now this Lady Jane Foster..." Sif shook her head. "He is not judged for them. Why am I?"

"Art not judged, Lady Sif," Volstagg corrected gently, "but burned a few bridges, you have. You should stop trying to build them back again, and forge a new path. Even Fandral cannot return to his first love."

"More the pity. He was a better man, I deem."

"So he was," Volstagg nodded, "and can be a better man still, methinks." Volstagg looked at the raven-haired goddess of war. "Can be a better woman, yourself, given the chance. Think on it."

"Thank you, Volstagg," Sif said quietly, "I will."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sauer shivered miserably underneath the fuzzy robe and towels Pepper had wrapped around her. She was still wet from head to toe, and what was left of her destroyed clothing chafed in all the worst spots. It didn't matter how many times she begged to be allowed to dress, there was always another question...another look...a bunch of people looking at her like she was a crazed, drowned rat.

And _NONE_ of them spoke English!

Well, that wasn't quite true. Dr. Banner had managed for a few moments, as had Tasha, but they all insisted that _she_ was the one with the problem. Fury was even worse: he almost didn't speak at all, but the _look_ he gave her made her shiver from something besides cold.

She was now officially afraid to go to sleep. With Fury around, she might never wake up.

But she still wanted some damn clothes! Was it too much to ask?

The floor shook as the Aesir Princes approached. Thor pulled up a chair provided by Stark (apparently Stark was accustomed to Thor's mass, and was already prepared in this wing), and sat down in front of her. He noticed her shivering, though, and stood long enough to pull off his massive red cape, which he wrapped snugly around the young woman's shoulders and head.

"Asante, Thor," she whispered, drawing it closed around her.

He nodded. "Mnakaribishwa, Kidogo Moja," he rumbled. "Unajisikiaje?"

She started, looking up into the giant's face. "Wewe kuelewa mimi?"

"Ndiyo," he said, nodding gravely.

"Thor," Tony said suddenly, "how can you understand her when we can't?"

Thor looked up at Tony Stark and raised a shaggy eyebrow. "Your maid speaks the Swahili tongue again. 'Tis not hard."

"Just as a point of reference, how many languages _do_ you speak?" Fury inquired, his tone all business.

"Roughly 350, Director, but not all of those are Midgardian dialects. Loki was always more the student than I in such things. He is fluent in nearly 500, some of them extinct, many of them extra-solar, and at least a dozen known only for their invective," he declared.

Stark goggled at Loki. "You learned a dozen languages just to _cuss_?"

Loki shrugged. "I was an adolescent once."

"Back to business," Thor rumbled. He patted the shivering girl gently on the shoulder. "Amani, msichana mdogo. Tutaweza kupata chini ya hii hivi karibuni."

(Bruce motioned to Tony with his head. "He said, "Peace, little girl. We'll have this sorted out in no time.")

She looked up, annoyed. "Mimi nina umri wa miaka mitano."

("I'm not five years old.")

Thor smiled a little. At least the maid still had some spunk. "Unapendelea mimi nakuiteni kibeti?"

("Would you prefer I call you a midget?" )

"Ningependa kupata nguo kabla ya sisi kuendelea mazungumzo haya," she huffed. "Mimi aliuliza mara tano tayari, na mimi kuendelea kusikia 'dakika moja tu' au 'jambo moja zaidi'. Hii si ziliwaleta."

(I would prefer to get dressed before finishing this conversation. I have asked five times now, and I keep getting "Just a minute" or "one more thing". This is not dignified.)

Bruce and Tony both winced. They had been so taken aback by the language problem that they hadn't thought about the young woman's embarrassment...or discomfort.

Thor nodded and looked up at the assembly. "She is right," he announced, sitting back with his hands on his knees. "There is naught we can learn from her that can't wait for her to be properly garbed. Kwenda, kidogo moja, na mavazi mwenyewe vizuri. Sisi kuwa hapa bado kitambo," he said extending a hand to help the woman to her feet.

(Go, little one, and dress yourself properly. We will be here a while yet.)

Sauer sighed with relief, then looked up at Thor and took his gallant hand. "Thank you, Thor. I appreciate that a great deal," she said, then shuffled out of the room to where Pepper waited with clothing.

Thor's mouth dropped open.

So did Loki's.

So did Tony's, Steve's, Fury's, Natasha's, Bruce's, and Clint's.

"Well I'll be damned," Tony finally said. "She's speaking English again. Nice going, Thor!"

Loki shook his head. "That was not your tongue, Anthony, though I know it sounded like it. T'was the All Tongue."

"All Tongue?"

"A native language of Asgard," explained Thor in wonder. "A magical tongue we use between the worlds as a trade language. The speaker is always understood in the language of the hearer."

"We have quite the puzzle, then," Loki announced. The company looked at him as he watched the door where Sauer dressed. "This is a mighty piece of magic, and unrelated to the possession. Thanos only deals suffering; not understanding."

"And yet, she seems not to be able to control it," Thor mused. "Tongues rarely manifests without Interpretation. There be strange things afoot, and not all of them be caused by Thanos."

"Yes, we do," mused Loki.


	13. Clean and Unclean

Steve Rogers stepped out of an adjacent office, pulling his T-shirt down as he did so and fishing his cell phone out of his pocket. He was gradually getting used to modern technology-with a little help from Tony, of course, but it was still odd for him to talk into a phone that was both so small and cordless. He headed for the snack bar that Tony kept stocked and grabbed a seat on one of the stools, flipping his phone open at the same time.

"Call Leon," he directed the device, and then waited while it rang.

He'd known Leon since the War, though the man was a trifle older than he. Leon had been an army chaplain when he (Steve) had enlisted, was embedded with Bucky's unit in Germany, and had helped him a lot when he lost his friend. Fury had helped them reconnect after he finally woke up. Now he saw him at least twice a week, for services and for Confession. It just wouldn't be right to confess to someone younger than him, and there weren't many older. And Leon _was_ old-just over 100.

"Archbishop Pietro Gentry," said the voice on the other side of the line. Still firm, after all these years.

"Leon, it's Steve," Cap announced. Steve Rogers was one of the few people to call the oldest Archbishop in America by his familiar name.

"Brooklyn! Good to hear your voice," the old man exclaimed. "How are you? Not needing to come in for Confession already this week, I hope?"

"Nah, nothin' like that," Steve said easily. "Listen, I need a favor. More like a professional consultation, you could call it."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. "You need a consultation: from _my_ profession? What have you gotten yourself into this time, lad? More of that Avengers business, is it?" The Archbishop was also one of the few people who could call Captain America 'lad' and get away with it.

"Well, er, um, yes."

"Hmmm. Well, you're always welcome here, you know..."

"Sorry, Leon. I'm afraid this time I'll need you to come to me. The situation is classified, and we need to keep it...how do the kids say it today?"

"On the DL?" Leon was always a little sharper on modern slang. Of course, it helped that he hadn't been asleep for 70 years.

"Yeah."

"That could be a problem. My chauffeur has the day off."

"Hmmm. Wait a second," Steve said, and then turned to Tony. "Can we send a car to pick up my friend Leon? His chauffeur is out for the day."

Tony Stark frowned. "What, he can't drive himself?"

"He's over 100, Tony, so no."

Stark's eyes widened a little at that. "I'll send Happy with a limo, then. Where is he going?"

"The Diocese in Newark, New Jersey."

"Right." Tony pulled out his cell phone and punched a button.

"We're sending a car for you, Leon. Look for a limousine with Stark Enterprise plates. Oh, and you might want to bring your hat."

"It isn't a 'hat', Steve. It's a miter."

"Right. Well, there are official dignitaries here from, well..."

"You're serious."

"Yes."

There was a sigh. "We can't keep anything on the DL if I go outside in robes, Steve. I'll pack them and change there." There was another pause. "_Really_?"

"Yep."

"I'll bring my red phone, then. The Boss will want to hear about this right away, as well. See you in an hour?"

"Sounds about right."

"Ok, then. I'll get packed. God Bless you, Steven."

"Thanks, Leon."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ /\/\/\/\

Pepper fumbled for the light-switch in the adjacent bedroom, and then clicked it on, flooding the expansive suite with a soft glow. A king-size bed dominated the room, surrounded by a nightstand, a few chairs, and a large dresser. Victorian roses graced the walls, complementing the bedspread, and fresh flowers had been placed on the nightstand, while an old-fashioned landscape globe decorated the dresser. A walk-in closet occupied one wall, and a door on the far side of the room teased with the promise of a hot shower. Several boxes lay on the bed, and Pepper began opening them, revealing different articles of clothing.

"Do you want to shower first?" the red-headed CEO asked Sauer, who answered her with another distressed look. "You still can't understand me, can you?"

"Pepper, what the hell's going on?" the younger woman asked, obviously. "I..."

Pepper cut her off with a hand motion. "No talking," she insisted, making a closing motion with her hand. Next she pointed at the bathroom and made sprinkling motions at her own head. "Shower," she commanded, walking over to a linen closet and pulling out more large, fluffy towels.

The young woman sighed in relief. "Oh, _gods_ yes," she exclaimed, wobbling over to grab the proffered towels and washcloth. Something caught her eye, though, and she stopped at the dresser, staring down, her mouth hanging open.

"Hon, what is it?" Pepper asked, closing the distance and touching her young protégé' on the arm.

Sauer was staring down at the globe, one hand caressing it almost...lovingly...and Pepper saw tears starting to form in her eyes. "Midgard," she whispered.

"Honey, we call this 'Earth', ok? Only Asgardians call it 'Midgard'," Pepper corrected her, patting the hand that caressed the top of the bumpy globe. "Earth," she insisted again.

Sauer shook her head and sniffled. "Loki told me. 'Midgard' means 'Keep of the Men' in their language. It's kind of poetic, really. The world is somebody's home, not just a clump of dirt, or earth." She frowned down at the metal sphere. "I wonder what the other one kept," she mused sadly.

"What?" Pepper said. When Sauer turned to her, Pepper made a shrugging motion and a questioning face, and the young woman nodded.

"I could see it," she whispered. "The other Gard, the other Heimr..."

"Heimr?"

"Homeworld," Sauer answered, still looking at the globe in front of her. "It was so beautiful...green and white instead of blue and white, like Midgard. Swirls of purple clouds at the poles, but no ice anywhere; it must have been so warm..." she choked up. "It was so beautiful," she whispered.

"Sauer," Pepper urged her, "Come. Tell me later. Shower now," she insisted, and tugged her towards the bathroom.

The young woman caught a shuddering breath and nodded as she was pulled in the right direction. Pepper started some warm water in the shower as Sauer tried-with shaking hands-to pull off the remains of her soaked clothing. She looked around for a place to put her ruined blouse-she couldn't keep it now-and her eyes found a crack in the tile wall. "Pepper?" she croaked, pointing.

It was just a piece of cracked tile, damage left over from Loki's attempt to take over the world two years previously. Pepper shrugged. "Loki. Manhattan. Remember?"

Sauer's finger traced the sharp piece of broken tile, her bottom lip starting to quiver.

_The crack ran from one pole to the next. She could see the entire planet start to shake, and red fire glowed at the center of the break..._

"Sauer?" Pepper asked uncertainly, concerned at the young woman's sudden ashen appearance.

_Prisoners wailing, children screaming, ships carving up a green and white marble like a watermelon..._

"Honey, what is it?"

_"Look well, little worm. Run home and tell your people what awaits them. Better yet, taste for yourself..." A goblet was forced to her ghostly lips, and a glowing substance forced down her throat...sweet and yet horrifying... "So shall your children be to me...such dainty morsels...a fine wine..."_

Sauer collapsed to her knees, hugging the toilet. "He made me...he made me drink..." Her stomach finally rebelled at the horror of her memory, and Sauer threw up, retching over and over until her stomach was empty and her body shook, weakened. "Fifty billion people," she gasped, "_he killed fifty billion people_."

Pepper felt her blood turn to ice, and she looked up into Tasha's face, horrified at what she heard from the doorway. "See if Dr. Banner has a sedative," she snapped, suddenly in charge again.

The assassin nodded, and disappeared.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"So, this All-Tongue of yours," Banner was saying...

Thor nodded. "T'is one of our native languages: one of the first learned in childhood by all Aesir. While members of the royal family," he motioned to Loki and himself, "and other dignitaries are required to study many languages, the All-Tongue works as a handy substitute between realms, especially for those who cannot afford the education Loki and I were granted."

"So, is the magic in the speaking or in the hearing?" Banner asked. "I'm just wondering if Sauer is somehow working magic all of a sudden," he explained.

Loki shrugged. "It's a bit of both, really. The magic is not in the speaker, per se, it exists more between both speaker and recipient, though the speaker must still have the necessary syntax."

"Sounds kind of like the Force," Tony quipped. A blank look from the Aesir prompted a quick explanation of Star Wars theology, and Loki nodded.

"Crudely explained, but roughly correct," the blue prince conceded.

"And now Sauer is spouting your language, which there's no way in Hell she could have known," Fury said darkly. "Any ideas how? We really need to figure that one out."

"She did not start speaking the All-Tongue until she closed her eyes in the middle of our conversation," Thor mused, stroking his beard. "When she looked at me, she switched immediately from Swahili to the All-Tongue."

"What about the other times she switched languages?" Loki pressed. "Did she close her eyes and open them then as well?"

"Yes," Dr. Banner offered. "She switched from Swahili to Russian by looking at Tasha, then to Irish-Gaelic when she looked at Miss Potts."

"What about the Swahili?" Stark wanted to know.

"She looked at me," Fury volunteered, "but I don't speak Swahili," he protested.

"Any more than Pepper speaks Irish-Gaelic, but I bet your respective ancestors spoke those languages," Tony pointed out.

"So, Miss Sauer's mind is resetting her language filter on the perceived ancestry of the first person she sees when she opens her eyes," Loki mused. "It's almost as if the magic at work doesn't recognize the passage of time or the evolution of language...or..."

"Or?" said Tony?

"Or the person who tried to give her this gift wasn't allowed to finish," Loki said thoughtfully. "In her moments with Thanos, Sauer encountered at least one other person who was gifted with Tongues, and who tried to pass it along to her. Fandral mentioned the presence of other prisoners; they may not have all been physical."

"But they were there all the same," a shaken Romonov interrupted the men's banter. "Doctor, do you have any sedatives on hand? Sauer needs one right now."

"Why?" asked Thor.

"She collapsed into hysterics," the assassin explained. "She keeps going on about fifty billion people and something Thanos made her drink. When I left she was still retching."

"Damn," Loki muttered darkly. "That explains a lot." He rose swiftly and headed for the room where Pepper still tried to comfort Sauer. Thor jumped up after him and grabbed his robed arm.

"Brother, what meaning do you take from this? Did Thanos made her watch the destruction of another realm?"

"She should be so lucky," Loki insisted darkly, "to just have to watch. No, Thor: Thanos did more than make the maid _watch_," the red-eyed prince caught the eyes of everyone else in the room, "he made her _participate_."

"In the genocide of fifty billion people," Fury looked, for the first time, shaken.

Loki shook his head. "No: in their cannibalization. Thanos is a _soul-eater_; that is how he has lived for so long, by stealing the life-essence of a planet's population."

"He made Sauer drink somebody's _soul_?" Tony was aghast.

"Probably from his own personal stores," Loki nodded.

Thor turned a delicate shade of green.

"Do we even want to know?" Barton muttered darkly.

"She will need you to," Loki said sternly, "for this was not of her doing. Thanos has a sweet tooth, you see. He prefers _children_," he snapped darkly, then turned on his heel and stalked into the bedroom with Potts and Sauer.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Stark muttered, reaching for the brandy again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ /\

Loki let himself into the bedroom, Sif following close on his heels, and they both followed the retching sounds to the bathing chamber in the back. Loki could feel his magic gathering; he wasn't sure exactly why, but some things were not questioned.

"Miss Potts," he said firmly, "I must ask you to leave. I will attend to Miss Sauer."

The CEO looked up at the blue God of Mischeif and frowned.

"She is very upset, sir," Pepper protested. "I don't know how much a stranger can help. Apparently she saw..."

"This _stranger_ knows exactly what she saw, _and_ was forced to do. Your servant needs someone who understands where she has been and how to deal with it, and that. Is. Me. Please leave," he said coldly.

Pepper stood from where she had been holding Sauer's hair back, and washed her hands. She walked over to the dark prince until she was a breath away from his face and looked him in the eyes.

"She isn't a _servant_," Pepper said with quiet firmness, "Sauer is my _friend_. Kindly remember that."

Loki returned the look, red eyes meeting blue, and nodded. "You have a brave heart, Miss Potts. I can see why Stark is taken with you. Do not fear for your friend. I will do her no harm."

Pepper nodded and stepped past the blue giant, nodded at Lady Sif, and walked out.

"You as well, Sif," Loki turned to her, and his eyes started to glow, "out."

"But she needs a woman to..."

"I said **OUT**," Loki bellowed, and the Aesir found herself flying backwards, out of the room, to land unceremoniously on her backside. The door closed of its own accord, and a trio of locks that had **not **been there before clicked shut. The last she saw of the dark prince was a pair of glowing eyes and an outstretched, pushing hand.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Sauer's stomach was empty, but the retching feeling would not subside. She could still taste it: the golden fire that had been poured down her not-physical throat, sticky and sweet like honey, but coppery like blood. It reeked of sweat and tears, perfumed with torment, spiced with the misery of lost and abandoned children.

_How could he do this?_

The foulness of the brew clung to her, slime in her throat and smoke in her eyes. Sauer thought she could retch for a thousand years and never be free from the filth...

"Are you finished?" a masculine voice asked: familiar somehow. A large, warm hand steadied her spine. She shook her head.

"I can't...I can't stop..." she croaked.

"Up...get _up_," the voice insisted, and another strong hand found its way under her armpit. Then the pair of them tugged her to her feet and walked her into the shower, where warm water started pounding a tattoo into her scalp. Sauer's hands reached for the wall, she wasn't certain she could stand on her own. Her stomach threatened to keep her bent over, and her hands slipped on the wet shower walls.

A safety bar appeared out of nowhere, and she grabbed it reflexively.

"Good, yes. Hang on," the voice commanded.

Strong hands started lathering her hair with something from a nearby bottle: vigorous scrubbing that was part cleansing, part massage. The touch was firm enough to almost be painful, but not quite. A mound of foam had formed on Sauer's head, and the hands moved down from the crown of her head to her temples, then behind her ears, then the base of her skull. The scouring, massaging hands reached the base of her neck and found the collar of her blouse, and Sauer heard a disapproving "_tch"_.

Strong fingers worked their way inside the collar on both sides, and with a sudden **_RIP_** the remains of Sauer's blouse-and her bra-lay in the shower floor. It their place appeared a terry-cloth like shift; sleeveless, it began at her neck and dropped straight to her knees. The scouring continued, strong hands working lather into her shoulders, arms, and hands, before proceeding to scrub with the shift itself. By now the garment was well-soaked and soapy.

"This is an Asgard bathing shift," the voice explained. "Aesir maidens wear them in the public baths to signify their status and to ward off predatory warriors. Here," he handed her a wet washcloth, "scrub your face. I don't think I can be gentle enough to make it safe."

The scouring hands began massaging down her back, somehow hitting every...single...spot. Sauer ducked her head under the pounding water, the shampoo stinging her eyes even as it cascaded down her face, and she started scrubbing at her skin. She welcomed the pain..._deserved it_.

"No, you don't. You did no wrong." The voice was suddenly dark, almost harsh, and suddenly its owner's identity clicked in her mind.

_Loki._

She turned to face him, her back hitting the shower wall, and his hands stopped scouring long enough to cradle her chin.

"You did no wrong;" he repeated fiercely, "the sin is _his_. You did not _ask_ for this, you did not _want_ this, you did not _choose_ this to survive. Do not blame yourself."

Water continued to cascade around them, and to her puzzlement Loki seemed both to have grown and changed color. He was now a mottled pale-flesh and blue, like a speckled fish, but with red eyes. Sauer's wonderment turned cold as she realized what the dark prince was saying.

"You know what he made me do..."

He nodded. "I was his..._guest_...for a year prior to my invasion of Midgard," he said darkly. "I know quite well how Thanos..._feeds_...and how he tortures his victims, be they solid or otherwise."

"He made you drink..."

"Daily."

"I'm sorry," her hand, tiny compared to his, reached for his face, and Loki allowed the contact. It staggered him to realize that even now, fresh from her soul's torture, Sauer was trying to comfort _him_.

The All-Father hadn't seemed to care. Neither did the rest of the Aesir. In war people died, many of them innocent. Bad things happened. A _real_ warrior was expected to shrug it off and go on, not surrender to the sentiment of mourning. Wailing over dead innocents was for women and children and _argr_, not warriors or princes.

"I don't know how to do this," she whispered again, snapping him out of his contemplation. The look he gave her prompted an explanation. "Mourn fifty billion people," she explained. "Is it ok to cry?"

He nodded. "For a while, but don't let it cripple you. Let us finish cleaning you up, and get you dried off and garbed."

So saying, Loki returned to scouring nearly every inch of Sauer's body. He missed little, and even with the bathing shift in place Sauer was acutely aware of Loki's hands under her breasts, between her thighs, down her legs. He did not linger in any single place, however, and seemed intent in scrubbing every inch clean of any dirty sensation, rather than replacing it with anything titillating.

Sauer couldn't remember being scrubbed like this even as a child, though she knew she must have been. She wondered, briefly, if Loki had children. He was quite thorough.

Soon enough she was rinsed and done, water streaming down the shift and her shaking legs. Loki reached for a towel, but scowled in disapproval at the size of the bath towel provided.

"This won't do," he glowered, and with a strong **_snap_** the towel popped out to 5 times its original size. **_This_** towel he wrapped snugly around Sauer's body, and with a tug at the bottom the wet shift fell to the shower floor. A regular-size towel began massaging the water out of Sauer's hair, and then the whole-body scrub began anew, only this time Loki sought out every drop of water on her flesh. He scrubbed until every inch of her was dry and pink. Sauer felt like a little girl again.

"That you certainly are not," he assured her, smiling at the look on her face. "Yes, I can hear your thoughts. They are quite loud at the moment. Not surprising, considering all that has transpired." He turned, tugging her out of the bathroom, and led her to the highback chair that sat in front of the desk. "This will do," he said, waving a hand over it.

A large, ornately carved rocking chair took its place, and before Sauer could ask Loki what he was doing he had scooped her up-as he would a child-and sat down, cradling her in his lap.

It was just too odd. There were rocking chairs in Asgard? Not to mention she was being held and rocked-like a toddler-in an Aesir prince's lap. Why?

"You mentioned crying," he said, beginning to stroke her hair, "for fifty billion people, and for the souls Thanos made you drink. Let it out," he said huskily, "it will be more than I was able to do."

He pulled her head into his shoulder, and suddenly crying was all Sauer could do.


	14. Glorious Purpose

Thanos scowled at the imaging device that had linked his mind to the Aesir warrior's and Midgardian messenger's. It had short-circuited and was now a smoking ruin. He wondered oddly if he could remember how to fix it. He had never had trouble with the Possessor before...

But then, he had never, _ever_, in 4,000 years, been cast so completely out of a victim. The act was unthinkable...unprecedented. And to think, it had been accomplished by such a young pup! The worm was hardly a warrior...it couldn't be a century old yet. It was a Midgardian! And unbreachable!

That, too, was unheard of. In the few moments he, the almighty Thanos, had sparred with the Midgardian soldier, he had discovered a shocking twist to the species. Some of them were unbreachable, their minds completely closed to him: no weaknesses to exploit.

Such a thought was absurd. All living things had weakness, and it was through their weaknesses that Thanos worked best. The most delicious ones were fear and hate. The Aesir's disdain for women was strong, possibly centuries old, spawned of grief and despair untended and ignored. The Midgardian's weakness was its counterpart, though much more unrefined: a scowling dislike for the males of its species, born of betrayal and nursed on scorn and mockery. It was even more delicious flavored with the pain and fear fostered by the Aesir...

And then the soldier had to come along, and ruin all his fun!

_There will be recompense for this_, Thanos promised himself, and closed the lid on the Possessor. He would tend to the device later, after it had cooled off.

After _he_ had cooled off.

Thanos turned away from his toys and walked over to his drinking cabinet. He was thirsty, after all, and could still amuse himself with the spectacle below, as the planet was pulled apart. He filled a goblet with some of the fresh Glorious Purpose-soul nectar-and drank deep, reveling in the taste of violation and despair, fear and loss, innocence and...triumph? What was that doing in there? The nectar tasted odd. But then, the Reis were an odd species. He shrugged. Who really knew what was in a soul?

His gaze fixed on the planet being carved up before him. A little more time and work, and his Chitauri would be able to move on to Midgard for its cleansing. For now, they needed time to eat, multiply, and refuel.

So did he: eating and refueling, that is. Thanos turned away from the planetary chaos beneath him and headed towards the shrine on the opposite side of the room.

_Her_ image was there...the one he couldn't take his eyes off of. His Goddess, his Love, his reason for living...

And beneath _Her_...his most recent sacrifice...

The lifeless eyes were fixed on the ceiling of the shrine, and oddly enough its face was peaceful in death, almost smiling. Thanos ran a hand through its star-shine hair and looked down at the figure in front of him. How could it look so peaceful, when he had tortured it to death?

"What did you do, little Princess," he mused. "What are you up to, even now?" He glanced up at the Soul Indicator above the dead figure and frowned.

It had a negative reading. How was that even possible? He had neither shut off the machine nor drunk the Sacrifice's soul; the Collector should read _something_. Souls had to leave the body when the carrier died, and the Collector...

"Do you wish me to prepare your meal for you, my lord?" The Other was always ingratiating. "Or shall this one be given to the officers for their pleasure?"

Thanos thought for a moment. "This one is mine," he finally decided, "but preserve the head. I wish to make a..._gift_...of it."

"As you wish, my lord," the Other said, bowing.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"So...there are rocking chairs in Asgard?"

Sauer had cried herself into exhaustion, and eventually sleep, held and rocked all the while by Loki as if she were a sobbing child. Her rest did not last long, however, and she found herself waking with her head still cradled on his chest.

"Is that really your first question?"

"Mmmm-hmmm. You seem experienced in this."

She could almost feel him smile. "Then yes, there are rocking chairs in Asgard. Some things are universally known."

Her mouth twitched with a tiny smile.

"And I raised three children."

Now _that_ she hadn't known. What few Norse myths Sauer had read had not mentioned Loki having a family. Of course, she had spent most of her life avoiding myths and legends, preferring to focus on iron-crafting and combat tactics. Sauer tried to imagine Loki changing diapers and juggling bottles, and couldn't do it.

"Magic has many uses," he answered her unvoiced question with some amusement, "and some of them are quite practical. Besides, my children were all...housebroken...I think is your term...and weaned when they came to Asgard."

That made her chuckle. "Now I _am_ jealous. I've changed more of my nephews' and nieces' diapers than I care to think about. Some of them would be useful as chemical weapons." She paused for a moment. "You're comfortable," she admitted.

"Say that in public and I swear I shall change you into a frog."

She frowned at that. "Does it have to be something _slimy_? I've never been involved in politics," she protested.

"You would prefer I transform you into a different animal?" He arched an eyebrow down at her.

"Oh, yes. A cat would be much more entertaining," she said, leaning back a little so she could look up at him. "See, Mr. Stark hates cats, but Pepper would keep me out of guilt and he would _never_ stand up to her about it. I would have the run of the Tower and the ability to annoy Mr. Stark for the rest of my life."

Loki chuckled. "My dear, you have a wicked sense of humor."

"Sorry to disappoint you, your Majesty."

"Disappointed? Hardly. I approve," he said smiling. "I will grant you this boon. Call me 'comfortable' in public and you shall spend the rest of your days as a cat."

She looked up at him again, blinking. "You're bigger," she finally said.

"Mmmm-hmmm."

"And blue." Her forehead wrinkled. "Why are you blue?"

"I am a Frost Giant."

"What is a Frost Giant?"

A cool finger pulled her chin up so she could look at him properly. His features had not changed, but his skin was now a deep turquoise and marked with swirls of raised marks. His hair was the same-shoulder length and ebony, but his eyes were blood-red. "_This_ is a Frost Giant."

"Oh."

"This does not frighten you?"

She frowned and looked thoughtful. "I don't have the energy to be afraid right now." She glanced up at his turquoise face again. "Should I be?"

"I am the creature Aesir mothers threaten wayward children with at night," he said with some bitterness.

"_You_ are the Monster Under the Bed?" Sauer was incredulous.

"In Asgard, yes."

Sauer thought for a moment. "Fine," she finally declared, "if I ever go to Asgard, and find you hiding under my bed, I promise to scream like a girl. _And_ I won't tell anybody how comfortable you are," she added, laying her head back down on his shoulder as he chuckled deeply.

"What if you found me under your bed here on Midgard?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"I would _shoot_ you," she said in a practical tone. "But then, the same thing would happen to any man, human or Aesir, that tried such a thing. I don't discriminate." She paused. "Well, I'll make an exception for Sir Fandral. _Him_ I'll shoot twice."

"Good girl."

Another shudder ran through her, and she closed her eyes for a moment. "He's really coming, isn't he," her voice was suddenly smaller, and resigned.

"Yes."

She paused for a moment. "I could see them: the people he was killing," she said softly.

"I know."

"They were beautiful. They were like us...but not somehow. Tiny and more numerous, and phosphorescent. There were _so many_," she shuddered again, and Loki stroked her hair. "And they were so _beautiful_...and their planet..."

"I know," he said softly. "Thanos only harvests the best the universe has to offer," he said darkly. "Those he sacrifices to his goddess. The rest he disdains."

"Do I have to live forever now?" She actually sounded worried about that, Loki thought.

"Do you not wish to? I thought most humans ran about looking for ways to conquer sickness, old age, and death."

She shook her head. "If living forever means drinking a murdered person's soul, then I gladly choose death." She shuddered again. "I would spit it out if I could, you know. I can still taste some of what he made me...drink. It was foul."

"The soul elixir that Thanos makes-he calls it 'Glorious Purpose'-must go into a physical body to have physical effects," Loki told her, slipping into his pedantic mode again. "What you...tasted...for lack of a better term...was really Thanos drinking some of that elixir. Since your essence was tied to his, you could "taste' the energy that Thanos fed upon, but since none of it actually entered your body, you received none of the 'benefits' of it. He knew you would be horrified at the prospect, so he used such an opportunity for torture."

She thought for a moment. "The last time you came to Earth...Midgard...you said you were 'burdened with glorious purpose'. You were talking about this elixir of his."

"Yes." Loki's voice had gone deep and cold. "I can still feel them within my mind, the souls he made me drink: broken and wailing for vengeance. It is indeed a burden."

Sauer shuddered again. "This guy really needs to die," she said darkly.

"Easier said than done. We will be doing well to beat him back again," Loki cautioned.

She stiffened and sat up. "No. Not good enough. We have to _kill him_," she said fiercely, "and we have to bring him _here_ to do it."

Loki stopped rocking. "What do you mean?"

Sauer took a deep breath. "There was another prisoner there...some sort of...of a woman...she told me," she scowled, trying to comprehend and failing, "I don't know how she told me, but she told me how to kill Thanos." Sauer started to shake again, but this time it was from excitement. "We can do this...we can _end_ this...but it has to be **_here_**," she insisted.

"Excellent. Ready to fight, then?" His red eyes looked both determined and amused.

"I think so," she said, sliding off of Loki's lap and standing up. "I'm not as shaky as I was before. Thank you."

"You are most welcome." He cocked an eye at the young woman, who was already heading for the door. "May I suggest _clothing_ before you go fight the forces of evil?"

Sauer looked down. "Aaaack!" She was still wrapped in the magically-enlarged towel, and nothing else. "That...is an excellent suggestion, your Majesty," she gulped.

"Miss Sauer, within the last 120 minutes we have shared both a Jacuzzi and a shower. I think we can let go of the formalities now," the Dark Prince chided, a little playfully.

"Ohhh no," Sauer said firmly, shaking her head. "The formalities _stay_. I have my reputation to think about...or what's left of it. Waking up in _your_ arms-half naked-is not helping matters, and now I've done it twice." She frowned, sorting through the clothing Pepper had lay out on the bed for her. "Of course, it won't matter what we say when we leave. Sir Fandral and Mr. Stark's minds will go _straight_ to the gutter." She scowled at the thought, and then brightened as an idea struck her. "Unless you come up with an elaborate, juicy, scandalous tale of what we _didn't_ do. I can't speak for Fandral, but Mr. Stark would shrug it off as..."

The Prince cut her off. "I fear that won't work, Miss Sauer. I currently cannot lie."

Her jaw dropped open. "But...but aren't you the god of lies..."

"Yes, that is one of my official titles," he ran a hand through his immaculate raven locks, frustrated. "Unfortunately, my mouth is magically bound to prevent me from speaking falsehoods. I am currently incapable of speaking lies," he admitted darkly.

"So, the truth sets you free. Hmmm, damn. Just when I need a good, scandalous, juicy lie, too. Can you write them?" She actually looked hopeful.

"Hmmm." The thought had not occurred to him. He conjured a piece of parchment and a quill and bent over the desk for a moment, scribbling. He handed the result to Sauer, frowning.

Miss Sauer and I did absolutely nothing untoward, lewd, dishonorable, licentious, or scandalous while sequestered.

"Damn and blast, no I cannot," he said, disappointed.

"Oh, erm..." was all she managed to say, turning pinker by the second. "I think I had better get dressed now," she finally choked out. She grabbed the clothing Pepper had left for her, and dashed into the bathroom.

Prince Loki shook his head, chuckling. "Maidens," he finally muttered. Waving a hand at the door locks, he exited the bedroom. Lady Sif stood there, glaring at him, while Pepper Potts just looked concerned.

"Miss Sauer will be out shortly," he informed them, "as soon as she is finished changing." He looked down at Pepper. "Have no fear for your friend. She is well."

"Thank you," Pepper said, nodding.

"Brother!" Thor called from across the suite. "Come, there is someone here who wishes to meet the Dark Prince of Asgard and Jotunheim!"

Loki scowled and looked across the room. An old man stood next to Captain Rogers, wearing elaborate white robes trimmed with gold and a similarly trimmed white pointed hat. He held what looked like a golden shepherd's crook.

"The Archbishop of the Diocese of New Jersey," Pepper murmured, "a high official in the Church Steve Rogers attends, and one of the oldest men on the planet."

"Thank you, Miss Potts," Loki said, nodding. He changed into Aesir royal attire even as he walked, black and green silks surrounding gold armor enveloping his Jotun form. He opted to leave the helmet off; they were inside, after all. He nodded to the old man. "Your Grace."


	15. Bishop, Knight, Pawn

"Archbishop Pietro Leonardo Gentry, servant of Christ, this is my adopted brother: Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard and Laufeyson of Jotunheim, called the God of Lies, Mischief, Chaos, and Fire, and premier Sorcerer of the Nine Realms. Brother, this is Archbishop Pietro Leonardo Gentry, a Father and High Priest in the faith embraced by Captain Rogers..."

"Prince Thor, please," the old man held up a hand. "I appreciate the honor you give my office, but the formalities should really be saved for another time. I am deeply honored to meet you both. My brothers and I have long suspected such beings existed, but having no proof could only speculate. I wish the occasion were more joyous! Let us take such joy in each other while the time is short, and may your revelation bring joy and relief to the rest of the inhabitants of the Earth, knowing that we are not alone in the Universe, after all! Princes Thor and Loki, I bid you welcome," the old man bowed stiffly, "to the Earth. May you find Grace and Peace during your stay here, and may the Blessing of my Lord rest on you both."

The Archbishop extended his aged hands to Thor, gripping his hands firmly. "Prince Thor of Asgard: welcome," the old man said simply.

"Thank you, your Grace," Thor said. He was deeply touched by the old man's demeanor. It was a radical change from the priests of Asgard. Where the Aesir priests were cold and austere, this old man seemed deeply warm and affectionate, even humble. It showed in the way he carried himself, in the wrinkle of his smile and the light in his eyes.

Before he could stop the old man, the Archbishop released Thor's hands and extended the same gesture to Loki. "Prince Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim: welcome!" he exclaimed, and grabbed the cold blue hands of the Frost Giant.

"NO!" Thor shouted, reaching to stop the embrace, but he stopped short.

The Archbishop's hands had _not_ frozen. Instead, where his flesh touched Loki's, _Loki's_ turned white, shifting back to his preferred Aesir color. Loki tried to pull away, but the old man gripped him harder and tugged him close. The sharp blue eyes met the surprised red ones.

"You're in pain, aren't you, my son?" the old priest murmured.

"Yes," said Loki quietly, meeting the old man's eyes.

"I sense a great burden, and guilt, and...other things. If you wish, we may discuss this another time, when we have privacy. Perhaps you may find healing while you are here with us," he murmured. The Archbishop released Loki's hands, and they shifted back to blue.

"For now, let that suffice," said the Archbishop, raising his voice again. "I shall, of course, call my elder brothers in the faith as soon as possible, for they will want to share in this joy, as will His Holiness, the Pope. Now, may I ask why I was called here? I assume it was not just to meet these foreign dignitaries, important though that is."

Thor nodded. "We bear grave news, your Grace. There is a being who threatens the continued existence of your realm and its people: a Titan given to madness, whose name is Thanos."

"We believe he has chosen to target your planet specifically because of the claims of your religion," Loki explained, his fingers twitching reflexively. "Your faith claims to have conquered Death, and Thanos worships Death."

"Ah, I see," said the old priest. "This sounds like an extensive briefing. Can someone find an old man a chair? I find standing for long periods very tiring, nowadays."

Chairs and an office table were produced, and the Archbishop sat down, as did Thor, Loki, Fury, Rogers, and Stark. Tony Stark sidled up to the old priest before sitting.

"So, you and the rest of your cohorts have 'always suspected' there could be other sentient races out there, huh? I thought you were supposed to leave lying to the politicians?" he said softly, but with some sharpness.

The Archbishop met Tony's eyes with a gaze like steel. "Boy, I serve the Author of _Life_, not _Stupidity_," he said sharply. "Don't confuse the ranting of ignorant and cruel men with official doctrine. Putting 'in Jesus name' on the end of a statement does not create orthodoxy; any more than referring to Darwin creates good science. To answer your question: Yes, we have been prepared for this for some time." The old man sat down. "Now, if we can get started?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Pepper placed a hand on Sauer's arm as she exited the side bedroom. "Are you ok?"

The young woman nodded, but still frowned at Pepper's face. "I understand 'ok', so I think you're asking me if I am alright, but... Am I speaking English, or are you? What's happened to me?"

Sif stepped forward. "Lady Sauer, you are currently speaking my language: the All-Tongue of Asgard," she said briskly. "All who hear you will hear what you say in their own language, and you, in turn, will understand those of us who speak such. The princes have determined that you were somehow gifted with Tongues during your sojourn with Thanos, though the gift was incomplete. You speak in the language of the perceived ancestry of the first person you see when you open your eyes. However, the gift of Tongues is incomplete without Interpretation, and you cannot interpret. You must, therefore, be careful of blinking for some time."

"The All-Tongue? But how..."

"The mechanism of the magic involved can only be explained by a skilled sorcerer, and then only if he knows exactly what magic transpired at the time of the gifting," Lady Sif grated. "Just be careful who you look at if you must close your eyes, and then open them. Can you follow such simple instructions?"

Pepper flushed angrily. "Now just a minute!"

Sauer touched her friend on the arm. "Pepper, it's ok, really. Do we have any apple juice? My stomach finally settled down, and I'm really thirsty."

Pepper Potts gave her young friend a look, and nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes." She held up a finger and indicated a place on a nearby chair. "Wait here."

Sauer watched as her boss's heels clicked across the floor, and waited until she was out of earshot, before turning back to Sif. "Alright, spill. What the hell is the matter with you?"

Sif raised her chin. "Spill? Spill what? I don't know what you mean, Lady Sauer."

"The hell you don't." She glared at the taller warrior. "You've been treating me like shit since you appeared in the Tower, and I've done nothing to you. What the hell is your problem?"

Sif scowled down at the centuries-younger woman. Did she really owe this..._child_...any explanation? Wasn't her foolishness already apparent? She thought about it for a moment, frowned as she began speaking, and sat down.

"Lady Sauer..."

"Please call me Anne. It is a nickname given me by Agent Barton, and I will soon legally adopt it."

"You do not use the name given you by your father?" Sif looked surprised.

"No. It is awkward and archaic, and has brought me a great deal of mistreatment while growing up. My father chose it as a joke, not realizing how cruel other children would be with someone in their midst who was...odd. I don't use it except for legal documents. Those who know me call me Sauer, but even that can be turned into a joke, since it rhymes with 'sour', meaning 'bad taste'," the young secretary explained.

"Ah," Sif closed her eyes, "I always wondered why you had such an odd-sounding name. Anne, then. What do you know of our people, especially the princes Thor and Loki? I know many tales of their exploits are told here on Midgard, though how that can be is a mystery to me."

"Not much," Anne admitted. "I never developed a taste for mythology, though I had to read some of it in school. My interests lay mostly in engineering and metallurgy."

Sif looked surprised. "That explains a great deal. I always assumed Loki's reputation was well known."

Anne shrugged. "I know he is Thor's adopted brother and a member of the royal family. I know he is exceptionally intelligent and ambitious. He is well-mannered and very observant. In battle, he is particularly ferocious, but I believe that is the norm for anyone raised in Asgard, particularly royalty. He is also gifted with magic; he showed me some at my desk."

Sif nodded. "All true. Like most royals, he also has many titles: God of Lies, Mischief, Chaos, and Fire; Silvertongue..."

"What do his titles have to...Oh, wait. I remember about the Silvertongue thing. It means 'Expert deceiver' or 'Master Manipulator', or something like that. But Prince Loki can't lie now, and you know it! He can't so much as write a fib; he's bound by some kind of magic to prevent it!"

"That doesn't mean you should _trust_ him..."

"And all this doesn't explain your hostility to me...oh." Comprehension dawned on Sauer's young face. "You're supposedly concerned for my welfare, like Sir Fandral before he..." she shivered.

Sif reached out to the younger woman. "He didn't mean to hurt you," she said gently.

"_Bullshit_," Sauer snapped. "He was _pissed off_ that I gave normal civility to the Dark Prince, and offended when I called him on his passive aggressiveness. _Supposedly_ he was concerned for my virtue, but _that is a joke_, especially from Fandral." Sif gave Sauer a questioning look, and Anne shot back one of annoyance. "Loki is _royalty_; such men have _standards_ I could never hope to meet. Fandral the Womanizer was vicious and mean, and for an emotional agenda of his own with Prince Loki."

"Anne," Sif began, but the young woman held up a hand.

"Let me finish. I don't know what happened in the other realms after Thor and Loki left. I was dismissed from S.H.I.E.L.D. immediately after the Battle of Manhattan, and I'm not privy to their intel. Here...in Manhattan...we've been focusing on cleaning up and getting on with life." She frowned again. "That day when I met Prince Loki: it was brief. I was covered in blood and could hardly speak, and he was in some sort of glass cell. Still, within 1 minute of seeing me he knew I was a woman, and he treated me with courtesy and respect. That's more than I have received from the males of my own planet, or from Sir Fandral, or from Prince Thor, for that matter, and _he_ has held me in his arms."

Sif stared, amazed. "Thor ?"

"Don't assume too much. It was an hour after meeting Prince Loki, and I had been thrown aside by the Hulk," Sauer explained. "If Thor hadn't caught me, I would be dead. But feeling me as he did, he _still _called me a boy. He did the same thing when he arrived this morning, remember? I don't know about Asgard, but here that's either rude or unobservant."

Sif nodded. "It is the same in Asgard: a crass insult if done on purpose, a sign of carelessness if done otherwise. I have seen wars rekindled for such a slight."

Sauer's eyes narrowed curiously. "How long have you known their Majesties?"

Sif shrugged. "Since childhood: easily 700 years. I was born in the royal castle in Asgard. Prince Tyr-the God of War-is my father."

"And your mother?"

"She who bore me left the castle soon after and now is dead. I never knew her."

"I'm sorry. My mother was killed when I was two. I don't remember her much either." She frowned. "But we digress. You really don't trust Loki now, do you?"

"I do not," Sif said, stiffening up again.

"Did you ever?"

Sif looked thoughtful. "Yes," she finally admitted, "there was a time when I did. We were all friends, for a long time. Loki even saved Fandral's life just three or four years ago, when we followed Thor into Jotunheim. He still owes him the debt."

Sauer straightened up. "Wow. That explains a lot."

"What do you mean?"

Sauer pressed her lips together for a moment, thinking. "Loki told me-a few minutes ago-that he is a Frost Giant."

"Yes, what of it?"

"He _expected_ me to be afraid of him. He said something about being the monster under the bed in Asgard," she explained.

Sif nodded. "Such tales are told widely. The Frost Giants are much hated in Asgard."

"Yet you were all friends with one for several centuries, and Fandral owes his life to one..."

"We didn't know that at the time!" Sif protested.

"Guaranteed Loki didn't either. Given the choice, he always appears as an Aesir. Ever wonder why?"

Sif fumed, silently. "He had to have known at _some_ point..."

"I know he knows _now_, but _when_ he found out is crucial. Loki was raised to hate and fear Frost Giants, _the same as you and Fandral_, but he _is_ one. So, effectively, he was raised to hate and fear _himself_."

"He deserves it..." Sif muttered darkly.

"Why?" Sauer demanded. "You just admitted he was a good friend and companion for centuries and that Fandral owes him a life-debt. He was a Frost Giant during that whole time, but guaranteed he didn't know it. How was he in bed, by the way?"

"Loki? He was...ah...ahem." Sif stammered and snapped her mouth shut. "That is a private matter."

"Busted. I thought as much. Fandral hates owing a life-debt to the Boogeyman, and _you_," Sauer pointed a finger at the Goddess of War, "screwed him."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bishop Gentry frowned, staring at the table. "We have a problem, then," he said gravely.

"Obviously," Tony snorted, but was silenced by a sharp elbow from Natasha.

"What do you mean, Your Grace?" Thor asked politely. He knew the old man grasped the situation; there seemed to be something else bothering the old man.

"While our Lord did indeed defeat Death with his crucifixion and subsequent resurrection, we have never claimed that our immortality was physical. It is not. The people of Earth still die, whether they are Christians or not," the old man explained.

"So how does your faith claim to have defeated Death?" Hogun asked pointedly.

"The defeat is on a different level, friend Hogun," Bishop Gentry explained. "Before the Sacrifice, people could expect nothing but total annihilation after death: body, soul, and spirit would be completely destroyed. Of course there were many religions across the globe," he waved a dismissing hand at the protest rising on several lips, "and I am not speaking of their mythos. I speak regarding my own theology. Humans could expect nothing but absolute Death without the intervention of the Christ. Now that that has happened, we have another option: eternal life in Heaven with the Father, and eventually, the entire universe re-made without sin, pain, or death in the mix."

Thor was flabbergasted. "Your religion means to move humanity to _Asgard_? My Father will have aught to say about that!"

"That is not what he said, Thor," Loki cut in. "The Bishop said that the Christian population would be moved to another realm, called Heaven, and then the physical universe we are in _now_ will be remade, without the possibility of sin and death in that re-making. He never mentioned Asgard." Loki turned to the Bishop. "Do I understand correctly?"

The old man nodded. "Well enough."

"So, what is the problem? Your Christ still claims to have conquered Death, though in the long-term and not the short-term," Loki asked impatiently.

"Our faith does not personify Death," Bishop Gentry explained. "Death is an _experience_ that will be done away with, not a _person_ that has been conquered, and certainly not a woman. This Thanos is misinformed if he thinks we have insulted his Lady."

Loki rubbed the back of his neck. "I highly doubt that explanation will placate him, Arch-Bishop," he said dryly. "Thanos' reason for targeting the Earth may simply be an excuse. He has been doing this for several millennia, you see: killing entire planets and sucking their souls dry to slake his thirst."

The Bishop's eyes opened wide. "He drinks _souls_?"

"Yes. Innocents are his personal favorite," Loki said dryly.

The Arch-Bishop contemplated that for a moment. "It sounds like he is in league with the Devil itself," he said, shaking his head. "Next you will tell me he possesses people, too."

Steve cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well..."

"We have two survivors of such possession with us now, Bishop," Thor confirmed. He waved to the blond swordsman that scowled across the table: "my friend and longtime companion, Fandral the Dashing, Swordmaster of Asgard," then pointed across the room, to where Miss Sauer still sat with Lady Sif, "and yonder maid: the Man of Iron's messenger girl, Miss Sauer. Mayhap one of them can shed some light on the inner workings of Thanos' mind, since each one was recently there."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"But..." Sif began.

"And now you hate him because not only is he an _ex-lover_, he's the wrong _species_, one you were taught to hate," Sauer pointed out.

"What exactly is your point?" Sif finally demanded.

"My point?" Anne Sauer raised her eyebrows. "I don't have the history with Loki that you do. My experiences with Prince Loki are different from yours, and can be counted in _hours_, not centuries. It is unfair of any of you to expect me to act like you."

"He attacked your people," Sif protested. "Does that count for nothing?"

"He also helped defend us from the Dark Elf Malekith. Does that count for nothing?" Sauer retorted. "Or don't you believe in redemption?"

"I believe in the prophecies," Sif spat out. "Loki will bring about the destruction of Asgard and the death of the Gods. He is to bring Ragnarok!"

"You really don't believe he has a choice in that, do you?" It was Anne's turn to be puzzled. "What ever happened to free will, choices, and consequences?"

"Such does not exist on Asgard." Sif shook her head firmly. "We each have our own destiny, revealed by prophecy. Thor's is to rule when the All-Father abdicates; mine is to rule by his side. Odin All-Father will fall in battle to the Great Wolf, and Thor to the Midgard Serpent. Our son will rule what is left of Asgard when Ragnarok is done. Loki's portion is to bring Ragnarok: destruction and death on those who loved him most!"

Anne shook her head. "That may be centuries away. Can you please focus on the task at hand? We have an intergalactic nut-job to kill before he tears my planet apart!"

Sif grimaced. "T'is easier said than done, Lady Anne. We still do not know how to accomplish this feat."

"**_We_** can't, but there is somebody else on the planet that**_ can_**," Ann said excitedly. "We just have to get Thanos away from his army..."

Sif raised an eyebrow. "Be that **_all_**?" she asked wryly.

"Oh, right," Anne said, crestfallen. "Easier said than done. Ummm. Why not grab his girlfriend and bring her to the planet? He won't attack it if she's here, will he?"

Sif scowled as if in pain. "Do you have...how do humans say it...her address?"

"Um...no. I just know what she looks like." Sif gave Anne Sauer an incredulous look, and the girl shrugged. "Thanos has this shrine set up to her on his bridge, with a full-scale likeness of his wonder-woman as the centerpiece. If we get a sketch artist in here, I can give you a good description...maybe it's somebody you or any of the other Aesir already know!"

Sif threw her head back in exasperation and groaned. "You should have been in on the briefing, Lady Sauer. Thanos' intended is not a real woman. He worships Death."

"Oh. Which one?"

Sif's head snapped back up again. "I beg your pardon?"

TBC


	16. Queen of the Dead

A/N-To all my loyal readers, and especially those who have taken the time to R&R, thank you! There is a little Thank you gift at the end of the chapter...I hope you like!

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"I beg your pardon?" Sif asked, incredulous.

"Which personification of Death does Thanos worship?" Sauer looked at Sif as if she were dense.

"Personification?"

"Goddess of Death," Anne explained, growing impatient. "Which one is he interested in?"

"I thought your people didn't personify Death?" Sif looked genuinely puzzled.

Anne snorted. "Well,**_ I_** don't, and guaranteed nobody **_else_** in the room does either, but the Avengers aren't the **_world_**. Plenty of religious groups through history had gods and goddesses for everything. Aren't I talking to the **_Norse_** goddess of war?"

"Well, technically yes, but..."

"But nothing," Anne shook her head. "Prince Loki told me that a lot of the ancient pantheons actually exist, just like you do, but in different realms or dimensions. Apparently there was a lot of traffic and trade between realms long ago, that was for one reason or another shut down. Hogun said war had a lot to do with it, and that we're lucky that Earth isn't still an intergalactic stomping ground due to a bunch of different treaties."

"Hogun used that many words in one breath?"

"Don't digress, Lady Sif. We could have a couple of hundred so-called goddesses to choose from, and we have to narrow them down!"

Sif's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think Thanos' intended is a goddess known on this planet?" she demanded.

"Thanos is from _this_ system, remember?" Sauer grew impatient. "Since Earth-Midgard, excuse me-was the approved transit hub between realms when he was growing up, it makes sense that he would have encountered this woman **_here_**. That means she would have been known **_here_**, and probably worshipped **_here_**," she explained.

Sif sat up straight again. "This actually makes sense, Lady Anne," she said eagerly. "How many goddess of death did your ancestors have?"

"Hmmm. I don't know off hand," Anne Sauer's brow wrinkled for a moment, and then brightened. "J.A.R.V.I.S., how many Earth Pantheons have one or more goddesses associated with Death?"

There was a quiet 'hum' from the speaker before the AI answered.

"Voiceprint identification acknowledged: Sauer, S., age 25, personal administrative assistant to Mr. Anthony Stark and Ms. Elizabeth 'Pepper' Potts; clearance level Gamma Upsilon Nu..."

"What did it say?" Sauer gave a Sif a confused look, who translated the AI's comments for her. Anne Sauer scowled at the ceiling.

"Cut it out, J.A.R.V.I.S.! How many Earth Pantheons have a goddess for death?" Sauer repeated herself to the groaning AI, but it still did not answer. A few moments and a few clicks later, J.A.R.V.I.S. finally spoke again.

"Voiceprint analysis identified. Speaker is S. Sauer. Query unidentifiable. Please speak more slowly or choose a language from the drop-down list."

"What is wrong with that thing?" Anne muttered.

"You are still speaking the All-Tongue," Sif pointed out. "While it is magically understood by living hearers, the Man of Iron's mechanical servant is not alive. It therefore hears an un-translated dialect from another realm, and cannot understand or answer your query."

"Damn," the young woman muttered. "I really liked this job, too. Now, thanks to some intergalactic mojo..." she groused, but Sif cut her off.

"The problem is manageable," she said, waving at Pepper. "Miss Potts, would you join us, please? We are in need of your assistance!"

The slender red-head walked over and handed Anne a large glass of juice, which she gulped down.

"Thanks, Pepper," she gasped.

"No problem," Pepper said, giving her a gentle pat on the back. "Glad to see the two of you haven't taken each other's heads off. What's going on?"

Sif had to translate Pepper's comments for Sauer, but the three women soon had J.A.R.V.I.S. producing a detailed list of pantheons along one blank wall, organized alphabetically by culture.

"That's a lot of deities," Pepper said, her eyes wide.

"Look," Sauer pointed, "at the Greek mythology list. Isn't that our bad boy himself?"

Pepper enlarged the list so they could consider it.

**Hades, king of Underworld. **

**Persephone, queen of the Underworld, wife of Hades and goddess of spring growth. **

**Thanatos, spirit of death and mortality. **

**Macaria, daughter of Hades and goddess of blessed death (not to be confused with the daughter of Heracles). **

**Angelos, a daughter of Zeus and Hera who became an underworld goddess.**

**Lampades, torch-bearing Underworld nymphs. **

**Gorgyra. **

**Orphne, a Lampad nymph of Hades, mother of Askalaphos.**

**Erebus, the primeval god of darkness, his mists encircled the underworld and filled the hollows of the earth.**

**Tartarus, the darkest, deepest part of the underworld.**

**Keuthonymos, an Underworld spirit and father of Menoetes.**

**Lamia, a vampiric Underworld spirit or spirits in the train of Hecate.**

**Menoetes, an Underworld spirit who herded the cattle of Hades.**

**Mormo, a fearsome Underworld spirit or spirits in the train of Hecate.**

**Hecate, a Greek Goddess of witchcraft, ghosts, magic etc.**

**Artemis, bringer of sudden death, plague and disease to animals, girls, and women. Also to death in childbirth and infant mortality.**

"Hmmm," said Sif. "Miss Potts, can you eliminate the males from this list?

Pepper nodded. "J.A.R.V.I.S., eliminate all males from the list," she commanded.

"Certainly, Miss Potts," responded the AI.

**Persephone, queen of the Underworld, wife of Hades and goddess of spring growth. **

**Macaria, daughter of Hades and goddess of blessed death **

**Angelos, a daughter of Zeus and Hera who became an underworld goddess.**

**Lampades, torch-bearing Underworld nymphs. **

**Gorgyra. **

**Orphne, a Lampad nymph of Hades, mother of Askalaphos.**

**Lamia, a vampiric Underworld spirit or spirits in the train of Hecate.**

**Mormo, a fearsome Underworld spirit or spirits in the train of Hecate.**

**Hecate, a Greek Goddess of witchcraft, ghosts, and magic **

**Artemis, bringer of sudden death, plague and disease to animals, girls, and women. Also to death in childbirth and infant mortality.**

"Lady Anne," Sif said thoughtfully, "you saw a rendering of Thanos' love while enslaved by him. How many heads did the woman have?"

"Just one," Sauer answered. "Why?"

"Hecate has three," Sif said with a nod. "She is off of our list. Very well. Did the lady's image have pointed teeth, any animal parts, or carry torches?"

"No, no, and no." said Miss Sauer.

"That eliminates the Lampades: Gorgyra and Orphne, as well as Lamia and Mormo," Sif said confidently. "Lamia and Mormo are part serpent, while Gorgyra and Orphne are...well..."

"Scarier than all unbelief?" Sauer guessed.

"That is one way of stating it," Sif nodded. "Very good then. Who is left?"

"J.A.R.V.I.S., please make the necessary adjustments," Pepper commanded.

The screen flickered for a moment.

"As you wish, Miss Potts," the AI answered.

**Persephone, queen of the Underworld, wife of Hades and goddess of spring growth. **

**Macaria, daughter of Hades and goddess of blessed death **

**Angelos, a daughter of Zeus and Hera who became an underworld goddess.**

**Artemis, bringer of sudden death, plague and disease to animals, girls, and women. Also to death in childbirth and infant mortality.**

"I thought Artemis was goddess of the moon and hunting?" Sauer frowned. "What is she doing here?"

"Same name, different pantheon," Sif shrugged. "Such things happen." She peered at the list again and frowned. "I cannot imagine Persephone tolerating courtship from someone as monstrous as Thanos. She barely tolerates her own husband, though he has made her a queen; she hates being surrounded by the dead."

"How did she hook up with Hades, then?" Pepper asked, curious.

"Bride-capture," Sif answered dryly.

"Bastard," Sauer muttered.

"He is actually a legitimate son of Chronos and Rhea," Sif corrected, "the oldest brother of Zeus and Poseidon..."

"Weren't Chronos and Rhea both Titans?" Sauer interrupted.

"Ummmm, yes, they were. Why?"

"The same as Thanos, or Thanatos?" Sauer continued. "If Thanos really hates Olympians, would he really go after one romantically?"

Sif pressed her lips together. "It depends on his lust, I suppose. Just because the Frost Giants are universally hated on Asgard does not mean that courtships do not happen between individuals," she explained.

"It would help," Sauer said slowly, "if anybody knew what Macaria, Angelos, and Artemis really look like. The woman in Thanos' shrine was beautiful; I would know her if I saw her again," she offered.

**"THOR! LOKI!"** Sif bellowed, **"GET OVER HERE!"**

Potts and Sauer shook their heads, stunned at the sudden noise, and clapped their hands over their ears. "_Warn_ somebody before you do that!" Pepper groused.

The Aesir princes rose from their conference table and walked to where the women had been working. The rest of the men shrugged and followed in their wake.

"What is this?" Thor muttered, looking at the shortened list of Olympic goddesses.

"Miss Sauer had an idea that deserved exploring," Sif explained. "If we can identify Thanos' intended love, perhaps we can shorten his attack on the planet by bringing her _here_."

"Good thinking, Annie," Barton said, giving his young pal a friendly squeeze on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Clint." The young office assistant frowned anxiously at the bruises appearing on her friend's throat. "Did I...Are you all right?" she stammered.

Clint waved her off. "It's only a flesh wound."

"He's had worse," Natasha nodded.

Sif translated for Sauer, who (to the older warriors' surprise) dissolved into laughter. "What did I miss?" The Aesir wondered.

"Just an old movie reference," Sauer answered through giggles. "I needed that, too."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Monty Python hooligans," she snorted.

"Laughter doeth the heart good, like medicine," Bishop Gentry quoted. "Though I doubt the Holy Grail will help us in this circumstance, children. What do we look at on this wall?"

"It would appear to be a short list of the ancient Greek pantheon, Bishop," Thor said thoughtfully, pulling on his beard, "but with the males eliminated. Why do you consider this, Sif?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I did just say why, Thor. Wast not listening?"

"He heard you, Sif, but I doubt he makes the necessary connection," Loki answered. "It is a good idea...there even was a Thanatos connected with this list at one time..."

"We already eliminated him," Pepper volunteered. "We were trying to find out if perhaps one of these goddesses could be his Lady."

Thor shrugged. "That I could have told you right off. Thanatos and Macaria wed some 500 years ago."

"They did?" Pepper looked stricken. "But we thought..."

"A noble enterprise, Lady Pepper," Loki said dryly, "but Thanatos and Thanos are not the same person.

"Oh," Sauer breathed, crestfallen. "I was hoping to find out what the other goddesses looked like, in case one of them resembles the idol Thanos has on his bridge."

Loki nodded silently. "Still a good idea, Miss Sauer," he finally acknowledged. "Perhaps your mechanical servant has an imaging program that can perform such an artistic function?"

"J.A.R.V.I.S. does have a program that can do that," Stark nodded. "Get on it, kiddo."

"What?" Sauer looked up at her boss, perplexed. Sif had to translate again.

"This is beyond aggravating," the young woman groused. "I really need to speak English again. Is there any way to fix whatever is going on in my head?" She looked hopefully up at Loki.

The Dark Prince grimaced. "That is a complicated piece of sorcery, young lady, and one forbidden to me. You could end up permanently brain damaged or worse. We should consult with the All-Mother or Lady Eir for such treatment."

"What is wrong with the young lady?" Bishop Gentry asked. "She seems perfectly healthy to me."

Loki explained the young woman's dilemma to the old priest, who nodded sagely.

"Hmmm. I have heard of such a thing. I may be able to help her, but I shall have to consult with some of my brethren first," the old man said.

"Truly? Your seidr is most impressive, then, Bishop. I would hear more of it," Loki admitted.

"Seidr?" The Bishop looked puzzled.

"Magic."

"Hemmmm, well, I don't believe it is properly categorized as 'magic'," Bishop Gentry admitted. "In reality..."

The Bishop and Loki ambled off, talking in low tones about magic, science, and spiritual gifts. Thor stayed behind for a moment.

"Don't be discouraged, lad," he said, giving Sauer a seemingly affectionate pat on the back. "It is, in truth, a good idea. Let us know when the rendering is finished, will you?"

Clint cleared his throat awkwardly, but Thor seemed not to notice. He was consulting with Lady Sif again. Clint looked down at Sauer. Her face was stony.

"Annie?" he prodded cautiously.

She glanced up at him, then looked at Thor and held up three fingers. Clint grimaced.

"Do you want me to..." he made a few motions between himself and Thor, who still had his back turned to the pair, but the young woman shook her head.

"I've used words, Clint. They don't help. I'll handle this my own way," she said, shaking her head. She held up placating hands at the look of consternation that appeared on Clint's face. "Don't worry! Nothing drastic, I promise!"

Clint stuck out a fist, one digit extended, and scowled. "Annie," he said warningly.

She scowled back. "I _refuse_ to pinky-swear with a 40-year-old super hero," she groused. "You just have to trust me."

"Thor is a big boy, Clint," Natasha shrugged. "I say let him take his lumps." She turned to Sauer and patted her on the back. "Give him Hell, girl."

Sauer smiled and turned back to the list, and suddenly froze. _Hell_...was it still there? "Pepper?" she croaked. "Pepper, help me!"

"What is it?" Her boss was at her side in an instant, but Sauer was pointing at the list again...at a spot just below the Greek deities of death...Sauer made an expanding motion with her hands, and Pepper nodded.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., minimize the Greek pantheon, and expand the next one," Pepper commanded.

"As you wish, Miss Potts," the AI responded.

Norse Gods of Death appeared on the wall, followed by only three names.

"That...that has to be it," Sauer said, barely able to breathe from excitement. "That's it! I know it!"

Pepper made to call Sif, but Sauer was already out of her chair and across the room.

"Prince Loki!" she found him still deep in conversation with the Bishop, at the other side of the conference table, and barged into their conversation without warning.

"I beg your pardon, young lady," the Bishop began, but Loki cut him off.

"She can't understand you, your Grace," he explained. "What is it, Miss Sauer?"

"You said that you raised three children. Was one of them a daughter named 'Hel'?" Excitement brought fresh blood to her face, and Sauer found herself flushing.

"Yes. Why?" Loki's face was cautious, but calculating.

"Is she the Aesir Queen of the Dead?" Sauer couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice. She _just_ kept it from shaking.

She had Loki's full attention now, and he nodded. His dark brooding eyes seemed to pierce her soul. "Hel rules in Niflheimr. She has authority over all those who do not die in battle." Those piercing eyes narrowed. "_Why_ do you ask?"

"Is she half-black, and half flesh-colored? Does she have long black hair, a beautiful face, a green cloak, and a sad face?" Sauer continued.

Loki's eyes widened, and his face...shifted. He took Hel's form before the eyes of Sauer and the Bishop.

"Is _this_ the woman you saw? Is _this_ the idol on Thanos' bridge?" _Loki's voice out of a woman's body..._strong hands grabbed Sauer by the shoulders, shaking her... **_"IS THIS SHE?" _**Neither of them was aware of the small crowd of people gathering around them. Their raised voices had gathered...attention.

Sauer's eyes went wide as she nodded, and Loki released her, returning to his Jotun form.

"All this time, all the deals, the quests for power, for rule...the supposed _mercy_..." Loki breathed, staring at the nothing in particular.

Sauer thought the demi-god was in shock.

"It was all a scam, wasn't it? Just a ploy to make nice with you, so he could have your **_blessing_** to get under your daughter's **_skirts_**..." Sauer said breathlessly. "Does this change anything? Can we..."

Sauer didn't get to finish her question. Loki grabbed the young woman and bent her backwards over the table, his mouth passionately _molded_ onto hers, tongue probing, the two of them oblivious to the roar of indignation around them until Thor's massive hands pulled Loki off of her. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.

"What was that for?" Sauer breathed in shock.

One eyebrow lifted, and the Dark Prince gave her a feral smile.

"_Thinking_. Well done," he said smoothly, gradually releasing her even as Thor hauled him away.

Sauer blinked as she stood up, shaking, her lips burning and her head spinning. She staggered as if she was drunk, and Pepper's hand on her arm gave her some support. She turned to her boss.

"Chair?" she croaked. Pepper nodded and grabbed the nearest seat, which the young secretary gratefully sank into.

"Annie?" a concerned Barton said, floating into her field of vision. "You ok?"

She gave her archer friend a wobbly smile and nodded. "Ohhhh, yeah. Great. Thanks!" Her head dropped backwards and her eyes closed.

"Lady Anne, are you well?" Sif prodded. Sauer opened her eyes to see an upside-down Sif.

"Yup!" she answered drunkenly. "Sooo, Sif...how long has Loki been kissing girls? Be honest, now," she chided.

"Hmmm, about 900 years or so," Sif said wryly. "Why?"

"He's reeeeeeeeeeally good at it," Sauer gave her a conspiratorial nod, and **_clunk_**, she fell over again.

Pepper shrugged as she struggled to life her young friend's form. "Long day," she said to no-one in particular.

Clint Barton stepped up to Pepper's side. "Here, Miss Potts. I'll take her," he offered. Arms that easily bent a 200 lb bow lifted Anne Sauer as if she were a doll, and he carried her to a nearby couch.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Loki made eye contact with Thor, and gave his older brother a wolfish grin. "Still got it," he gloated.

"You're incorrigible," Thor groused, dragging Loki over to a seat.

"You finally noticed," Loki snickered. "I'm surprised it took you this long." He sighed, relaxing back into his chair. "The game is _on_, gentlemen. Shall we play?"

TBC


End file.
